One Perfect Moment
by quiet-heart
Summary: All Bella had wanted was one perfect moment and she found it in Don Flack's arms. Problem was, she was not who she claimed to be. Soon the tabloids are the least of her problems because someone wants her dead.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Been batting this idea around for a while, thought I'd try and flesh it out while I could and hopefully convince my muse to come back and let me finish my other CSI: Miami story if I got this one out of the way.

**Chapter 1**

She had appeared from the shadows quietly and gotten his attention just as quietly. Pretty, with brown hair in a clip, and brown eyes, she wasn't wearing anything that suggested she was looking to get laid or even meet the opposite sex; jeans, soft cashmere sweater in a pretty shade of blue, flat boots, and a sheepskin jacket. Having just broken up with Detective Jessica Angell, he wasn't looking but she caught his attention just the same. He offered to buy her a drink, and she accepted, asking for a non-alcoholic drink. The waitress suggested a Virgin Raspberry Daiquiri once she learned that the lady was sensitive to alcohol and preferred to simply avoid alcohol all together rather than take her chances with something that might or might not affect her.

Don had never heard of anyone being sensitive to alcohol and figured he could ask his friend, Sheldon, about that later. For now he was content to let his new friend avoid alcohol; he figured it was a guarantee that she would remain sober around him.

She said her name was Bella Donald and yes, she was new to the area but not new to New York. She seemed a bit shy and a bit hesitant at first but he turned on the charm and she began to warm up. He learned that she worked at a bakery during the day, helping turn out pastries and bread. When, after she'd finished her drink, he suggested a dance, she readily accepted and he quickly found out why; Bella was an excellent dancer and the music seemed to love her as much as she seemed to love it.

While they were on the dance floor something happened. Her perfume caught his attention and so did the soft curves of her body. She seemed to like being touched and seemed to like touching him; he made a point of touching and holding her every chance he got while they were on the dance floor and he watched as her eyes seemed to darken at the contact. She was aware.

When he suggested they get out of the bar, which was starting to get a bit crowded, she readily agreed and they left after paying the tab. A suggested walk lead them to a nearby park and they just talked, him tucking her sheepskin-glove-covered hands in the crook of his arm. They traded stories, her telling him about some of the more amusing moments of working in a bakery and him with his cop stories. She had a nice laugh.

He wasn't sure how it happened but it did; one minute they were talking and the next they were kissing. Her first kiss had been a bit hesitant, almost as if she wasn't sure, but that quickly vanished and Don realized that underneath her prettiness was very definitely a woman and a passionate one at that. Not only was she passionate but she was also hungry, judging by the way she couldn't seem to get enough of his kisses.

"I know this might be a bit presumptuous but..." he managed to get out between kisses.

"Your place," she said huskily. "Or at least I hope that's the correct answer."

"That's an answer I like a lot," he said, finding her neck and causing her to moan and arch against him. "Car?"

"Cabbed it and walked," she said.

"In that case it's a good thing I'm parked not too far from here," he said.

"Uh-huh."

He was not quite sure how they managed to make it back to his apartment, only that they did. Once they were inside, however, she got a little bit shy, looking around hesitantly as he took her coat and let her remove her riding boots.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concerned.

She blushed. "I don't normally, well, go with a guy I've only just met. I'm not saying I want things to stop, I'm just... I don't really have a lot of experience with guys."

He smiled. "It's okay; I'm not in any hurry." _But I am going to need a stiff drink if this keeps up,_ he thought. "Coffee?"

She nodded, relaxing a bit. He went into the kitchen and she followed, her socked feet barely making a sound on the floor. "This is a nice place," she commented.

He shrugged as he poured a cup of coffee from the coffee machine and popped it in the microwave. "It's home."

"Always a good thing to have," she said, crossing her arms across her chest and rubbing her arms.

"Cold?" he asked, noticing.

"A bit. Sorry."

"Don't be. This place usually is a bit cool in the evenings. C'mere," he said. She may have been shy but she was clearly still comfortable with him because she went to him eagerly and he wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back and arms as he attempted to warm her up as well as help her relax. She snuggled against him willingly and her perfume tickled his senses again. It was something slightly floral but fruity, something nice.

She looked up at him and as he watched, her eyes darkened again. And he was burying his hands in her hair, pulling it free of the clip, and tilting her face to just the right angle for his mouth.

Somehow they made it to his bedroom, removing clothes as they went. In the bedroom he took a quick time-out to notice her pretty blue lace and embroidery-patterned bra and matching panty; she definitely seemed to like the pretty things. Then the bra was gone and her breasts were spilling into his hands.

If there was one thing Don loved when it came to women, it was breasts and he loved them even more when they were natural. He had learned how to tell when a woman had increased her bust-line via surgery and it always seemed to turn him off because no matter how hard he tried or how well the surgery had been done, the woman's breasts always felt, well, fake.

But not Bella. Oh no. She might have been on the slightly small side, possibly only a B, but she was all natural and one hundred percent perfect, at least in his eyes.

She was also very, very sexually hungry as evident by the fact that she couldn't seem to stop touching him or kissing him. It was as if she'd given herself permission to let go and to be a woman at her most basic. She might have claimed to not having much experience with guys but what she started doing to him when she got him out of his shorts was the stuff of wet dreams.

"I thought you said you didn't have much experience with guys," he managed to get out.

She looked up and grinned. "I read, Don, and Cosmo has an excellent section on guys and the bedroom."

"That explains it."

He only just remembered the condom in time.

Afterwards they lay there, talking quietly. He commented on the elegant silver and gold Crusader's Cross that hung on a slender chain around her neck and she admitted it had once belonged to her mother, who had died from cancer when Bella had been in her early teens.

"Any other family?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Dad remarried when I was about sixteen and I have an older sister, nobody I really care to talk about. They do their thing, I do mine. You?"

"A sister, Samantha, and a brother, Jake, plus my parents. Sam's in a bit of trouble, fighting with alcohol and all that, and I hear from Jake once in a while," he said. "Keep in touch with my parents, join them for dinner once in a while."

"What about this?" he asked, commenting on the wide sterling silver and Australian opal ring on the index finger of her right hand.

"Ah, my version of a grad ring," she said. "Didn't care for the dinky little college rings they were showing at college, so I went to this place in one of the local malls and picked out this one."

"What did you take while you were in college?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, clerical-type courses. I'm comfortable with legal and medical terminology and the various computer programs that go with it, but I like working in the bakery more than working at a desk. Took the programs just to keep Dad happy and assure him that yes, I am trying to do something useful with my life."

"He doesn't see working in a bakery as useful?"

"Neither do my stepmother or sister; no ladders to climb, no contacts or power to accumulate," she said. A look of distaste crossed her face. "I don't particularly care for the political game."

"But your sister and your stepmother do," he guessed.

"They do their thing, I do my thing, and I try and stay out of their reach and their problems," she said.

"And your dad?"

She sighed heavily. "Dad does what Dad does, which, in this case, is own several businesses and he also plays the political game, although I think he's starting to get tired of it, based on what little he says and what little I hear."

"Let me guess; you've learned to read between the lines."

"I may not like the game of politics but that doesn't mean I don't know how to read people in the game," she confessed. "After all, sometimes life is politics; the players just don't always wear suits and ties and debate things in an office or boardroom."

She had a point there.

At some point or another, they fell asleep only to wake up later and have sex all over again, this time a bit more slower. Once again they fell asleep, spent both sexually and physically. In the morning, after another round of sex, he fed her breakfast, gave her his number, and saw her to a cab. Then he continued on to work, feeling good about life and himself.

"You have a good night, Don?" Danny Messer asked as he caught up to his friend at his desk.

Don smiled at his friend. "Not telling."

"You don't have to," Danny replied. And he handed him a copy of the local tabloid paper, watching as watched as Don's face went pale. "The _Post_ is a bit better, but not by much."

"Give," Don said, wiggling his fingers even as a cold anger began to fill him. Danny quietly handed him the paper and watched as he read the article, titled _Reclusive Desmond Daughter Cuts Loose_. The article went on to say how one Rose-Marie Desmond had been spotted at a local bar getting cozy with a guy and had left shortly afterwards with him. Sources indicated Rose-Marie had not gone home that night but had, in fact, spent the night with the unknown guy, leaving the writer to speculate that maybe, just maybe the reclusive Desmond girl was finally starting to come out of her shell and join the ranks of her stepmother and sister. Accompanying the article was a color photo of him and Bella on the dance floor, during what he guessed was one of their more cozier moments, neither one of them aware they were being photographed. Or so it seemed.

Snarling something ugly, Don crumpled the newspaper and threw it across the room viciously.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Rose-Marie groaned mentally when she saw her stepmother, Marion, sitting at the dining room table. She'd just had her morning workout and had hoped to have some coffee in peace before grabbing a shower and heading to her father's office to try and tackle the storage room. The storage room at her father's office was an on-going project, one she figured was going to take a fair amount of time to sort out the mess that was in those rooms.

Instead, when Marion saw her, she smirked. "Had fun last night, did we?"

Rose-Marie didn't reply. She preferred to keep her conversations with Marion short and simple and she certainly kept her private life exactly that; private. Most of the time Marion left her alone, preferring to trade barbs with her older sister, Judith-Ann, who put up more of a fight.

"My private business is my private business, Marion; you know that," Rose-Marie said as she got herself a cup of coffee from the breakfast buffet.

"Not when it's in the tabloids, my dear," Marion smirked.

Rose-Marie froze. "What, exactly, do you mean by that?" she asked icily. Marion held up a copy of one of the local tabloids and Rose-Marie snatched it from her, coffee forgotten. "_Oh my fucking god!_" She quickly flipped through the paper, stared at the page, threw it on the table, snatched another local tabloid paper, found what she didn't want to find, threw that aside, and grabbed the _New York Post_, flipping to the Entertainment section. Sure enough... "Son of a bitch! They can't leave me alone, can they?!" she finished off yelling.

"Quite the good-looking guy," Marion smirked, clearly enjoying her step-daughter's distress.

"Fuck you, Marion! That's your life, not mine!" Rose-Marie snarled, taking off for the stairs that lead to the second floor of the house and her bedroom. Once in her room she threw off the sweats she had been wearing from her work-out and changed into clean undergarments. Then she grabbed a pair of well-worn jeans, some clean socks, her favorite t-shirt from Disney's _Beauty and the Beast Broadway Musical_, and pulled her hair into a pony-tail. While she was doing this, her sister, Judith-Ann, came into her bedroom, wearing her own pair of sweats.

"I heard yelling," Judith-Ann said. "What happened?" she asked, plopping herself on Rose-Marie's bed.

"You seen the papers this morning?" Rose-Marie snarled, hopping into her jeans.

"Yeah, cute picture and cute guy," Judith-Ann said while cringing inwardly. She knew how much her sister hated the papers and hated it even more when she was in them. Of the two Desmond siblings, Rose-Marie tried to keep her face out of the papers and her life private. "Did you have fun?"

"He's a cop, Jay, and I lied to him!" Rose-Marie snarled, shoving her head through her shirt.

"He didn't know who you were?" Judith-Ann asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"Told him my name was Bella Donald and that I worked at a bakery," Rose-Marie said. "Bent the truth in a few areas and spent one of the best damn nights of my life in his arms." She hunted through her closet until she found what she was looking for; a thick gray hoodie sweat-jacket from a local sports gear shop, and pulled it on. Then she started hunting for her favorite pair of Sketchers hiking runners. "I don't care about me or the flippin' tabloids, I care about him! Especially since I was seriously considering calling him up and suggesting we have a bit of fun at the St. Regis on V-Day! After this, I'll be surprised if he even speaks to me again!"

"You care about him," Judith-Ann guessed, watching as her sister yanked the found foot-wear on.

"I had the best night of my life with him," she snarled. "He made me feel things I thought I'd never feel – Donovan you know the rule!" she finished off yelling, jerking her finger towards the tall, Adonis-like man who had just entered her bedroom.

"Sorry, I heard yelling, figured I'd see what was up," the chest-bare man said unapologetically. He brushed a lock of his dark hair out of his face and placed his hands on his sweat-clad hips. He glanced at Judith-Ann, who jerked her head towards the door.

"Out, Donnie,I'll explain what's going on later," she said. Donovan shrugged and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

"I don't know why you put up with him," Rose-Marie muttered, grabbing her sheepskin jacket, the same one she'd worn last night, and her gloves.

"He's harmless and he's fun," Judith-Ann said, watching as Rose-Marie found her favorite pair of Victoria's Secret sunglasses and started hunting for something else.

"He's an idiot," Rose-Marie shot back, "And if that moron comes into my room again, I will borrow a pair of steel-toe boots from Ramon and use 'em on Donovan's ass." Ramon was the Desmond's gardener and sometimes wore steel-toe boots for work around the estate.

"I'll warn him," Judith-Ann said. She held up a denim hat with Eeyore embroidered on it and offered it to her sister, who grabbed it, shoving it on her head and pulling her hair through the back. "This guy really means something to you, doesn't he?" she asked.

Rose-Marie nodded. "He's a good man and he doesn't deserve this. I've got to get to him and try and apologize before he decides to never speak to me again."

Judith-Ann nodded and said, "Take my car; it's faster and the windows are dark. Plus, I gassed it up recently. Also, the paparazzi will be looking for you, not me."

"Thanks, I owe you one," Rose-Marie said, grabbing her purse and dashing out of the room.

At the New York Police Department, Rose-Marie found herself being confronted by a desk sergeant that she would have loved to hire as her new butler; the family butler, Paul, was getting close to retirement and she wanted him to retire without worrying about the family. This guy gave new meaning to the phrase "Human Brick Wall," which made him perfect for the family.

"Look, all I want to know is if Detective Flack is in so I can talk to him," she snapped.

Before the desk sergeant could answer, a woman with curly hair stepped up to the desk and said, "Well, unfortunately for you, Ms. Desmond, Flack does not want to speak to you. He has this little thing about liars."

"Oh, get off your high horse," Rose-Marie snapped. "You think I'm enjoying this? You think I _like_ having my private life splashed all over the friggin' papers? All I wanted was one god-damn night to myself, one night where I could have a little fun, and thanks to my dear sister and stepmother, I can't even do that! I have to lie to get laid in private!" Not even turning her head, she jerked a finger towards a guy with a camera held up to his face and snarled, "And if you don't get that camera out of my face in the next five seconds you are going to find yourself in front of a judge on charges of harassment, bucko! And that's if you're lucky!" The desk sergeant, bless him, quickly got the man out of her sight. Rose-Marie sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of her nose where she could feel a headache coming on. "Look, I just want to talk to Don, to try and explain and to apologize. He's a good man and he doesn't deserve this. I don't care about what happens to me, okay? I care about Don. He was kind to me and he gave me one of the best nights of my life, something I haven't had in a long time and thanks to the paparazzi and my family name, that's something I don't get very often. I'm not trying to pull a sob story, I'm just trying to hold on to something that was good. Hell, I was planning on calling him up and finding out if he wanted to join me at the St. Regis on V-Day for some more fun."

The woman crossed her arms across her chest and scowled, studying her. Finally she sighed heavily. "Let me talk to Don, see what he says, okay? He's a friend and I don't want to see him hurt anymore than he already is."

"I didn't want to hurt him at all," Rose-Marie said. "In fact, I didn't even intend to hook up with him and I sure as hell didn't intend for the paparazzi to find me. I thought I was safe. Guess I was wrong."

"You said you care about him," the woman said.

Rose-Marie chuckled wryly. "Yeah, I'm not much for fairy-tales but Don... I didn't think it was possible for someone to make me feel as good as he did, to make me feel like a person and not an object or a commodity or something to be shown off."

The woman smiled fondly. "Don does have that way with women. Let me see what I can do, okay?"

Rose-Marie nodded and sat down in one of the chairs, prepared to wait.

Stella Bonasera headed for Don's desk, thinking about the woman in the waiting area and about Don's anger. There was something about Rose-Marie that made her want to believe her. She mentally reviewed what she knew about the Desmond family and realized Rose-Marie was right; her mother and her sister were very public figures, in the papers and the tabloids practically every other day. Rose-Marie was the quiet, reclusive one, the one the papers rarely saw. Not much was known about her, except that she disliked the paparazzi and avoided them as much as she possibly could, to the point of threatening them the way she did with the guy who had just been in the waiting area. If there was someone special in Rose-Marie's life, she was very, very tight-lipped about it. Her date with Don Flack was the first time the paparazzi had seen her do anything like that since her college days, roughly five years ago, if Stella remembered right.

"Don?" Stella asked as she approached her friend's desk. The dark-haired detective looked up.

"A friendly face at last," he quipped.

Stella smiled. "Yeah, well, don't shoot me, but there's someone here to see you," she said.

"Who?" Don asked curiously.

"Rose-Marie Desmond," Stella said.

Don scowled. "I don't want anything to do with her," he said.

"And if I told you she wants to apologize?" Stella said. "What if I told you she is one of the most reclusive of the Desmonds and absolutely hates the paparazzi to the point of just having threatened a guy in the waiting area with a judge if he didn't get the camera out of her face in the next five seconds and that was only if he was lucky?"

"She lied to me, Stella, and I slept with her," Don snapped.

"What would you have done if you had known who she really was?" Stella shot back.

"Avoided her like the plague," he replied heavily.

"And instead?"

"I found a pretty, desirable woman that I had a good time with and was seriously considering calling up for lunch or coffee," he said, seeing where Stella was going with this.

"Amazing what one name can do, huh?" she asked gently. "She said she never intended to hurt you and that you made her feel things she hadn't felt in a long time. She was planning on calling _you_ to see if you wanted to join her on the 14th for some more fun, except this time at the St. Regis."

"The St. Regis, huh?"

"Five star hotel, wine, sex, sounds like a good time to me," Stella said.

"Bella doesn't touch alcohol; something about being sensitive to it," Don said.

Stella nodded. "Makes an ordinary hang-over for us three times worse for her," she said. "Most people with alcohol sensitivity prefer to avoid the stuff all together." Don nodded; he'd been wondering about that. "The papers also report that she's a diabetic and is a frequent contributor to the top, most promising, nonprofit diabetic research companies," she said.

"That explains why she only had the one drink, a Virgin Raspberry Daiquiri, and didn't touch anything else for the rest of the time," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Didn't even take sugar in her coffee this morning, just milk. Didn't think anything of it at the time but I do remember seeing one of her finger tips looking a bit sore after she came out of the bathroom."

"Blood sugar testing; the norm for a diabetic," Stella said. "Look, I know you're hurt that she lied to you, but she's here and she's trying to apologize. She said she doesn't care about what happens to her, only that you're a good man and you didn't deserve to be splashed all over the papers like that."

"And you believe her?"

"Something in her eyes," Stella admitted. "That and the way she verbally castrated that camera guy; no weeping willow there."

Don chuckled. "Okay," he said, giving in. "I'll go talk to her, see what she has to say." He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and stood up. "Can't hurt any more than it already does."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Don watched as Rose-Marie's fingers worked her BlackBerry Bold cellphone, scowling at something on the screen. She didn't look like a wealthy socialite having a bad day, she just looked like an average person working on her cellphone. He thought the denim baseball hat with Eeyore on it was cute.

As if sensing she was being watched, she looked up. When she spotted him, she smiled shyly. "Hi," she said, tucking her cellphone away in an inner pocket of her coat, one he remembered her wearing last night. Erotic memories surfaced and he had to adjust the front of his overcoat to prevent a problem from becoming noticeable.

"Hi yourself," he said, coming over and sitting next to her. "Everything okay?"

"I don't know; you tell me."

"Well, I didn't appreciate being lied to, but as a mutual friend pointed out, you had your reasons."

"I could use a chance to explain. Coffee? My treat."

"A woman after my own heart; I never turn down free coffee. What about the paparazzi?"

"Damned if I do, damned if I don't," she said, shrugging.

She bought him coffee at a local coffee shop and they chose a quiet corner of the coffee shop to sit at, seated so they were next to each other but at a slight angle from each other. That way they didn't have to raise their voices too much and it allowed for a better sense of privacy. It also allowed Don to keep an eye out for trouble.

"You want the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" she asked, sipping her coffee.

"That would make for a pleasant change."

"Someone I'm very fond of does call me Bella; it's a nickname of sorts."

"Okay, so that wasn't really a lie so much as it was a fudge."

"And the business about the bakery? The person who calls me Bella runs the bakery and I volunteer there about three to four times a week, putting in an eight-hour shift each time. One might call it work experience."

"And college?"

"I really do have some certificates in medical and legal office work and I really do get bored behind a desk. I also picked up a few courses on baking, especially pastry and cake design but I don't think Dad knows about those; paid for 'em out of my trust fund and my inheritance from Mom," she said.

"Nice."

"Well, it's something I like doing. About once a week I help Mama Gemma, who runs the Little Italy Bakery, do up bread and stuff for the local women's emergency shelter, plus if she gets a really big order for a wedding or something, I give her a hand and I learn more in the process. It's Mama Gemma who calls me Bella; she's as fond of me as I am of her and I consider her the closest thing to a grandmother."

Don nodded. So Rose-Marie did work in a bakery, sort of. As she said, it classified as work experience. Rose-Marie's apparent affection for Mama Gemma also explained the nickname. "And your family?"

"Marion Desmond and Judith-Ann Desmond. Marion makes the tabloids on a weekly basis, almost daily with some of the other ones, and sulks if she doesn't make front page, or at least pages two and three. Judith-Ann, or Jay, as I call her, is almost par for the course but I think it's more of a case of oneupmanship with Marion. We get along okay but we have a mutual understanding of doing our own thing. Dad owns and runs Desmond Shipping Industries, one of the biggest shipping companies in the state of New York. I have no desire to join him and am not sure what is going to happen once he decides to retire."

"And us?"

She smiled, blushing slightly as memories came to mind. "I had the best night of my life with you and I had been planning to call you up later on today to find out if you wanted to have some more fun, except this time at the St. Regis Hotel, on V-Day."

He smiled. "And just how would you have managed that?"

"I know someone who owes me a favor," she said, smirking.

"What sort of favor?"

"Back-scratch favor. I put in a good word for them at certain high-society functions, which I do attend reluctantly once in a while, and they get me the best room at the St. Regis Hotel, or any five star hotel in New York, when I need it, no questions asked," she said, still smirking. "I may avoid the tabloids as best as I can, but I am not above currying a few favors here and there."

"Never a bad thing," he said, grinning. "As you said, politics is not always done with suits and boardrooms."

"Exactly."

"Why the St. Regis?"

"Their security is one of the best and I hear their hot tubs are wonderful."

"Hot tub, huh? I think I like that idea. What about wine or champagne? Thought you preferred to avoid alcohol."

"There's fruit punch and diet sodas," she pointed out. "A little imagination goes a long way."

"True," he said, grinning. "A friend mentioned you have diabetes."

She nodded. "Type two; I'm not insulin-dependent but I do have to watch my blood sugar closely. I also exercise regularly and watch what I eat and drink. Plus, I don't smoke and refuse to hang around anyone and anywhere where there is smoking. Fortunately, I haven't had too many problems with it and my last check-up with my doctor indicated that things were remaining fairly stable." She held up her right wrist, on which a large sterling silver MedicAlert bracelet sat, with large silver Santa Rosa links holding it in place. A recessed gold-plated MedicAlert logo was clearly visible against the silver. The clasp was gone and only a thick link held the bracelet in place, preventing it from being removed easily, thus also preventing possible theft. "Doesn't help I'm also allergic to penicillin."

"Your doctor just loves you, doesn't he?" he quipped. "Sensitive to alcohol, type-two diabetes, and allergic to penicillin to boot."

"Could be worse," she said easily. "My sister also has to wear a bracelet; she's allergic to bees and she's got asthma. Dad also wears one because he's been diagnosed with hypertension."

"And Marion?"

"Nothing to my knowledge, or at least nothing she'd admit to; after all, image is everything and having a medical condition is considered a weakness in her eyes."

"Such a fun family you have," he quipped, grinning.

"Believe me, I know," she groused. She reached into her coat as a buzzing sound caught his ear and pulled out her Blackberry. Working through it for a moment, she muttered, "Oh, piss off!"

"Problem?" he asked.

She held up her cell, which showed a text message. "Someone being rude," she said. The text read "BITCH!" and the number and name were restricted. "Somehow someone got a hold of my cell number and this is the second such one I've gotten in the past hour."

"Are you careful with your cell number?"

She looked up at him and raised one eyebrow. "Duh."

"Right. Well, I can try and trace the number, see if I can't unrestrict whoever is texting you," he offered.

"Eh, I'll just talk to my cell phone company, find out if they've been giving my number to anyone or talk to the people I know who do have my number and see if they gave it out to anyone recently," she said, deleting the text. "If push comes to shove, I can always change the number again and threaten those who get the number with murder and mayhem if this happens again."

He grinned. "Such a fun life you live."

"Wanna trade?"

"No thanks."

"Darn."

He laughed then watched as her cell buzzed again. "Now what?" she muttered. "Incoming picture? What gives?" A moment later she swore. "_What the fuck?_" She held up her cell and showed him the screen. Someone had snapped a picture of him and her walking along the streets of New York, possibly heading for the coffee shop. Then, before either of them could do anything, the cell buzzed again, signaling another incoming picture. This one showed them sitting in their corner, sipping coffee, looking cozy, and apparently talking. "What the hell is going on here?" she breathed, becoming increasingly nervous. The cell buzzed again; incoming text message.

"I C U CAN U C ME? GO HOME BITCH U DONT BELONG HERE" the message read.

"Don..."

"I see it, I see it, and I don't like it," he said. "We are getting out of here, _now_."

She didn't argue, just grabbed her purse and shoved her sunglasses on her face, coffee forgotten. Then, hand on her arm and rapidly escorting her out of the coffee shop, Don scanned the shop, not seeing anyone that triggered his radar; half a dozen people were using their cells anyway. Once outside he removed his hand from her arm, took her hand in his, and began to hustle back to the police department. On the way over there, he placed a call to a friend.

"Mac, it's Don. Listen, I'm with a friend and I need an emergency trace on her cell. Someone's playing games and it's _not_ funny." He glanced at her and asked, "What's your cell number?" She told him and Mac confirmed he'd heard it. Then her phone buzzed again and she looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "Incoming," he said to Mac. He nodded to her and she accessed the picture. It showed him and her rapidly moving down the street, him with a determined look on his face and her throwing a nervous glance over her shoulder.

"RUN LITTLE GIRL RUN," the caption read.

"Oh my god," she whimpered.

"Mac," he said impatiently. Mac said something and he replied, "We're on our way." He hung up and looked at Rose-Marie. "Hope you don't have height problems."

"I don't," she said.

"Good, because the crime lab is on the 35th floor and we're going to pay it a visit."

"Lead on."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tugging her hat over her face more and pushing her sunglasses further up her nose to hide her eyes didn't seem to help Rose-Marie get rid of the feeling that she was being watched. What made it worse was that she didn't know who was watching her or why, or even who was sending her the nasty text messages.

"_How did something so simple get so bloody complicated?_" she wondered yet again as she and Don rode the elevator to the 35th floor of the New York crime lab. "_I just wanted one damn night to myself, one night where I wasn't known or recognized as a Desmond, but just plain 'ol me. Well, I got that all right, but it looks like I've got a heap of trouble as well._"

Mac turned out to be Detective Mac Taylor, Crime Scene Investigator, and a friend of Don's. When he was shown the contents of Rose-Marie's BlackBerry, his eyebrows shot up and then he was hustling to one of the labs where an array of computers and computer screens could be found. Within moments he'd hooked up and accessed the BlackBerry. All the pictures and text associated with the pictures came from the same restricted access number but the problem was, who? Without yelling at the phone company (Which phone company? There were half a dozen cell carriers in New York alone, never mind the landline phone companies, Don pointed out sourly.), there was no way to trace the sender, unless he or she sent another message or text, or was even bold enough to try calling Rose-Marie.

"So what do I do now?" she asked. She, Don, and Mac were seated in Mac's office and she was nursing a cup of coffee that Don had kindly gotten her.

"Unfortunately, at this point there isn't a lot we can do. We don't have a name, unless you can think of anyone who might want to hurt you or have a grudge against you," Mac said.

"Nobody right off the top of my head. The only person who knew I was heading to see Don was my sister and even then she didn't know exactly where I was heading," Rose-Marie admitted.

"Did she know who Don was?" Mac asked.

"She saw the papers this morning and commented on it, yes, and I told her that Don was a cop. She also lent me her car because she figured the paparazzi would be looking for my car, not hers," Rose-Marie said.

"Is it distinctive?" Mac asked.

Rose-Marie shook her head. "Just a little dark blue Saturn Astra with three doors and dark windows. Even the license plate is your average New York plate," she said.

Mac nodded. "How did you two met?" he asked Don, who was seated next to Rose-Marie.

"At Sullivan's. Bought her a drink, started talking, dancing, wound up at my place," Don said, shrugging. "Said her name was Bella Donald and I didn't find out otherwise until this morning when Danny showed me the _Post_."

Rose-Marie cringed. "I showed up here, trying to apologize, and bought him coffee at the coffee shop down the street. That's when the pictures started. I did get two prior text messages to that but I deleted them."

"And then the pictures started," Mac said. "And you couldn't ignore those."

"Hard not to," Rose-Marie said.

"I have to ask, though, why should I not consider this to be a publicity stunt on your part? A way of getting attention and sympathy by making it look like someone's stalking you?" Mac asked.

"Mac!" Don protested, even though he silently admitted he'd been wondering the same thing himself.

But Rose-Marie didn't get hostile at the accusation. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders. "It's a fair question. Obviously I didn't take those pictures or send those messages myself, but I could have paid someone to do that. Some people will do anything for attention, true enough."

"And you?" Mac asked.

"Not my style. I value my privacy and I resent the intrusion," she replied. "I regret having to have lied to Don just to get a little nooky, but when you're in the position where just your name gets you in the doors of the hottest clubs in New York (which is not always a bad thing, mind you) it also gets you hanger-ons; people who want to be associated with you because of your name and the supposed prestige that comes with being associated with that name." She took a sip of her coffee and gave a rueful smile. "Learned that lesson the hard way back in college. Thought I was popular because of me as a person. Not so, and it took at least three guys before I finally clued into what was going on. Little slow that way."

"But you learned," Mac said.

"And withdrew as a result; acquired the nickname Ice Princess while I was at it," she said. "Except while I was taking baking courses."

"Where at?" Don asked curiously.

"The French Culinary Institute on Broadway," she replied. "I had to do a little wiggling to have a name other than my given name put on the register but it was worth it." She sighed heavily. "Anyway, after the business at college and a few other incidents I learned to be very, very careful about my info, like my e-mail addresses and my cell numbers." She gestured at the BlackBerry, which sat innocently on Mac's desk. "That... stuff... is not me. It's not my way. I don't like attention and I don't like being in the papers. My step-mother, Marion, that's her thing."

"And your sister, Judith-Ann?" Don asked.

"Most of her stunts are oneuppers in the Battle Royale with Marion," Rose-Marie said. "She does draw the line at drugs and married guys though."

"And Marion doesn't?" Mac asked.

"The married guys, or any guy for that matter, no. Drugs, yes; Dad threatened to have her out on her ear without a penny if she went anywhere near illegal drugs or got busted for DUI, or any thing like that," Rose-Marie said.

"So she can't get away with drugs or DUI's but she can get away with sleeping around?" Don asked. "Nice."

"Not my marriage, not my problem," she replied, shrugging. "Not my thing either, but as long as Marion and Jay keep me out of their fun and any trouble they get into, I really don't care what they do. Simpler that way."

"Would be," Don said.

Rose-Marie sighed heavily. "Look, I don't like this bull but I understand there's not a lot you guys can do, especially without a name, and I don't have one to give you. I'm just gonna call my cell carrier and have the number changed. Maybe that will work," she said. "Plus, I'll file a report and at least there will be a paper trail to track back to later if things go south."

Both men nodded. After promising to let Mac know if she got any more threatening message or pictures, as well as her new number, Rose-Marie and Don left. As they headed downstairs to file the report, they spoke quietly.

"After you get your cell number changed, what are you going to do next?" he asked.

"Continue on with my day, not much else I can do," she said. "I was planning to hit my dad's office and tackle the storage room in the basement, which is a disaster in its own right and is mostly a make-work project." She smirked. "Gets me out of doing clerical work, which you know I hate."

He smirked back. "Does that mean I won't be able to borrow you for any typing?"

"Don't push it, buster," she shot back.

"Darn," he said, grinning.

Then she leaned up and whispered seductively in his ear, "Although I wouldn't mind pushing a few other buttons."

He grinned wider and slid an arm around her waist, drawing her close. "I like that idea a lot," he said, keeping his voice low, "but I have to get back to work."

"Drat," she said, pouting.

"Of course, there's always later," he said.

"Dinner, maybe? My treat; least I can do for ruining your morning," she offered.

He nodded. "Sounds good. I'll let you know when I get off work, but I should warn you, I may get a call-out."

She shrugged. "If you do, you do; you're a cop and I've seen enough reality cop shows, like _48 Hours _and _Dallas Swat_ on A and E, to know that a call can come in at any time," she said. "You'll just have to make it up to me later." She gave him a cheeky grin.

He grinned. "Why do I get the feeling that life with you is not going to be boring?"

"It's not? Darn, and here I was hoping it would be nice and boring, simple."

"Where's the fun in that?" he shot back, still grinning.

After she filed the report and Don added what he could, he escorted her outside to her car. Once there, she reached up and gave him a kiss hot enough to cause a serious rise in his blood pressure.

"What about the paparazzi?" he finally got out.

"If I'm gonna wind up in the damn tabloids, I'd rather it be for something I enjoy rather than something stupid," she managed to reply, breathing a bit hard. "And believe me, no matter what happens or how long this lasts, I'm going to enjoy every minute of it, stalker or not."

"I can live with that."

"I'll text you with my new number once I get it take care of and I'll see you tonight. Let me know your preferences and I'll see what I can do," she said, reluctantly leaving his arms.

"You do that," he said, a grin on his face.

_And somewhere, amid the crowds and the people walking the streets, a camera snapped._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Rose-Marie moaned as Don's mouth found her neck even as she fought with the buttons on his shirt. They were back at his apartment after a nice dinner at a local restaurant that was known for being discreet and having a good menu. Now he had her up against one of the walls and they were both working at getting each other out of their clothes.

"Told myself I'd keep my hands to myself," he got out as he finally succeeded in getting her out of her blouse.

She giggled. "Whyzat? More fun this way," she said, hooking one leg around his.

"Wanted to prove I could be a gentleman," he said.

"Oh you were, trust me you were, but there's a time and a place to be a gentleman and this ain't one of them," she said, ending on a satisfied moan as he got her out of her bra.

"That I can agree with, sweetheart," he said, groaning as she pressed her hips firmly against him and a certain, very hard, part of his anatomy.

_Much later in the evening:_

"Did you have any trouble getting your number changed?" Don asked as they snuggled together in bed, their skin cooling in the evening air.

"Not once I explained the situation and showed them the pictures, no," she replied. "They even tried to trace the number for me but had about as much luck as Mac did." She held up her hand and crossed her fingers. "Fingers crossed that that's the last of that." He nodded. She sat up and positioned herself so she was looking at him square on. "Look, I know you prefer to keep under the radar when it comes to the news, and so do I; so I will do my very best to try and keep you out of the tabloids."

"I appreciate that," he said.

"As for everything else, well, it's up to you," she said.

"Meaning do I want to continue things, especially as this was technically only supposed to be a one-night-stand?" he asked, reaching up to stroke her hair.

"Yeah." She couldn't quite hide the wistful look that crossed her face.

He understood; reluctant celebrity, famous for being rich more than anything else, and burnt several times already. She just wanted the same thing as any other normal woman, which was a healthy relationship with a guy and to be accepted for who she was rather than what she had. "I'll tell you what," he said. "You know I just broke up with someone, so I'm not looking to get seriously involved right now. However, that doesn't mean, as you suggested earlier, that we can't enjoy each other's company. I'm thinking movies, dinners, nothing public, nothing special, just enjoy each other's company."

"And the sex?"

"Nothing wrong with that, as long as it's not the end-all-be-all sort of thing," he said.

She nodded. "I like that. I just don't want to turn you into some dirty secret, except maybe from the tabloids."

"Being kept from the tabloids I wouldn't mind, especially in my line of work," he said, grinning. "As for being a dirty little secret, don't worry; I'm good at keeping things to myself, too. I like it that way."

"So basically you've got my number, I've got yours, one of us gets bored we give a yell, see what's up?" she suggested hopefully.

"That's about the size of it," he said. "Just understand that I may get called away on a call once in a while."

"I know; you're a cop and that will always come first, which is what I admire and respect about you," she said, snuggling against him again.

Over the next few days the tabloids were buzzing with the new man in the reclusive Desmond's life, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, refusing to return calls from the press and refusing to answer their questions when they caught her in public. Even Mama Gemma asked and Rose-Marie just quietly raised one eyebrow.

"You know me better than that, Mama," she said. "He's special, that's all I'll say."

"Ach! He must be if you won't even say his name!" Mama Gemma yelped, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Well, the thing is, Mama, his work depends on him staying out of the papers as much as possible," Rose-Marie pointed out. "He's one of New York's finest and I won't compromise him or his work by him being in the papers unless he puts himself in the papers."

Mama Gemma nodded thoughtfully and let the subject drop.

She was a robust Italian woman, having immigrated from the poorer area of Italy when she was a little girl, or so the story went. Rose-Marie knew Mama Gemma worked hard every day and was proud of her bakery, just like she knew Mama Gemma was a widow and had been for many years; she had never remarried and had instead turned to baking as a means of support for her family. Mama Gemma mentioned having one son in the Navy and another son she refused to talk about; Rose-Marie suspected there was a story behind that, and a painful one at that. Mama Gemma had also mentioned a daughter that she said as having many _bambinos_, or babies, and lived outside of the city with her husband.

Thanks to Mama Gemma and her own schooling, Rose-Marie spoke Italian quite fluently and often swore in Italian, aside from when she was extremely upset. So did Mama Gemma, but from what Rose-Marie could understand, what Mama Gemma used was often a lot ruder than what she used. This was the case one day when Don decided to come by and check out the Little Italy Bakery, having found out from Rose-Marie that she was 'working' that day.

"_Figlio di puttana!_" Mama Gemma yelled from the back. "_Maggio il diavolo lo trovano e trasformare il suo guscio in ghiaccio!_"

Don looked at Rose-Marie, who cringed. "I know my Italian is a bit rusty, but what did she say?" he asked, grinning.

"_Figlio di puttana_ is _son of a bitch_, or _fam _for _s.o.b._," she said. "The rest of it was a curse, saying something about the devil finding the guy's nuts and turning it into ice."

"_Grande il muscolo, il cervello piccolo! Sua moglie deve avere a guardare molto difficile trovare il suo pene a fare i bambini!_"

"I am not translating that!" Rose-Marie yelped, her face going red, causing Don to laugh.

"That bad, huh?" he asked.

"She's pissed," Rose-Marie said. "We just had a delivery guy come by with some rather large sacks of flour and other major ingredients and lets just say he was less than careful about where he put the stuff."

"Everywhere else but where it's supposed to go?" he guessed.

"Mm-hm, and that stuff ain't light-weight," she said. "We're talking at least fifty pounds of flour and sugar alone and it's going to take several of us a few hours to put things where they belong because none of us have the strength to do it alone."

"Do you need a hand?" he offered.

"Only if you're willing and why do I get the feeling there's a catch?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He grinned. "I help you, you feed me," he said.

"Done." She leaned around the corner and yelled, "_Mama! Abbiamo un forte, reggette uomo disposto ad aiutarci con la maggior parte a condizione che roba da mangiare! Egli verrà per fare il deficiente che solo a sinistra! Che dire?" Mama! We have a strong, strapping man willing to help us with the bulk stuff provided we feed him! He'll make up for the moron that just left! What say?_

Mama Gemma came out and studied Don for a moment then nodded. "You give us poor ladies a hand and I'll make sure you get fed with good Italian food."

"I never turn down a free meal," he said, grinning. "Lead the way, ma'am."

"E 'un bel uno, ha gli occhi belli_,_" Mama Gemma said to Rose-Marie later, quietly smirking. _He's a handsome one; he's got kind eyes._

Rose-Marie grinned. "Questo non è tutto ciò che's got." _That ain't all he's got._

"Sarebbe un peccato per voi a far presente una sola volta," Mama Gemma said. _It would be a shame for you to let this one go._

"Questo fino a lui, mamma, non io. Abbiamo deciso di prendere le cose giorno per giorno e godere della reciproca compagnia, niente di più. Questo fino a lui, mamma, non io. Abbiamo deciso di prendere le cose giorno per giorno e godere della reciproca compagnia, niente di più," Rose-Marie told her gently. _That's up to him, Mama, not me. We agreed to take things day by day and enjoy each other's company, nothing more._

"Ma vi prendete cura di lui," Mama Gemma said, eyeing the younger woman shrewdly. _But you care for him._

"Io non sono un pazzo, mamma, non credo nelle favole più." _I'm no fool, Mama; I don't believe in fairytales any more._

"Chi parla di favole? Lei merita la possibilità di essere felici, Bella, proprio come chiunque altro." _Who's talking about fairytales? You deserve a chance to be happy, Bella, just like anyone else._

"Forse. Vedere le cose come giocare fuori. Questo è tutto quello che posso fare." _Maybe. See how things play out. That's all I can do._

Don grunted in satisfaction as he lifted the last large sack of flour into place. Yeah, hauling industrial-sized bags of flour and sugar and god-knows-what-else around was no easy task but it was a change of pace from his regular routine and Italian food was always good, especially the real stuff. He knew he was going to be sore as hell in the morning but he was sure Rose-Marie would help him with that little problem. He grinned at the thought.

"_Don!_" Rose-Marie suddenly screamed from the front area of the bakery. There was something in her voice that had him running. Something was wrong.

Sure enough, Rose-Marie was at the front counter, face pale and hands covering her mouth as she stared at an open, seemingly harmless, generic florist box. Mama Gemma and two other girls who worked in the bakery were hovered around her.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, wishing he had his back-up gun, but it was at home as it was his day off.

Rose-Marie pointed to the box and he looked inside. Amid plain wrapping were a dozen black roses. On the counter was a small envelope with Rose-Marie's name on it and beside it was a card. Don read the card and his blood went cold. "Son of a bitch is back," he said.

_Black roses for a black-hearted bitch. Nice try, but I can still find you._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thanks again for all the kind reviews and input. I am trying to keep a regular up-date going on this but my personal life is promising to go haywire over the next few days so I beg for patience. Thanks again.

**Chapter 6**

In due course the box of flowers and the card were dusted, examined, and taken into evidence by Mac and Stella. There was nothing on the box or the card, the box itself was a standard florist box, and the roses, which turned out to be good quality silk roses, could have come from one of a hundred different locations in New York, never mind being ordered on-line. To make matters even more complicated, the person who had delivered the gruesome gift was from a standard delivery company and, upon tracing the delivery back, came up with a false address, name, and phone number.

"Someone is covering their tracks," Mac said, studying the file that held the latest results of their search in his office. "And well."

"It also means someone is watching her," Stella said. "Or knows her routine."

"How many people knew she was going to be at the bakery today?" Mac asked Don.

"From what I was told, it's not exactly a secret but it's not something she broadcasts. Her sister and her stepmother knew about it because she'd been doing the same thing for the last two years like clock-work," Don said. He had sent Rose-Marie home and ordered her to call him the minute she was safe, which she had done. "Even Mama Gemma is so used to her routine and schedule it's on the main work schedule in her office. Catch is, Mama Gemma doesn't write in Rose-Marie's name, she writes in her nickname, Bella, so unless someone knew about her nickname, you wouldn't know that Rose-Marie and Bella were the same person and that Rose-Marie wasn't getting paid for what she did."

"It would just look like another worker's name at the bakery," Stella said, catching on.

"Right, and Rose-Marie never works the counters, always stays in the back," Don said.

"Any more calls or pictures?" Mac asked.

"Not since she changed her number," Don said. "She said she checked with her sister and those who had the number but everyone's got the same story; they didn't give out her number to anyone they didn't trust."

"E-mail?" Stella asked.

"Nothing so far," Don replied. "She doesn't even use Facebook or MySpace or any of those other public profile websites. Her e-mail address is even listed under a fake name."

"So every available precaution that could be taken has been taken," Mac said. "That makes this stalker one very determined stalker."

"And what's got me concerned is how far this stalker will go," Don said. "I don't want to see Rose-Marie end up dead because of some wacko's obsession with her." Then his cell rang and he checked it. It was none other than Rose-Marie. "Hey," he said.

"_Don, I think you'd better get back here,_" came Rose-Marie's voice, a voice that was shaking and clearly on the edge of hysteria.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, realizing something was up.

"_Whoever this sicko is, his latest present, well, let's just say it might be a good idea if you and your CSI friends brought someone who knew how to handle bio-hazardous material,_" Rose-Marie said.

"Bio-hazardous material? What do you mean?" he asked, not liking the sound of this.

"_How about a basket full of roses soaked in blood?_" she asked.

"Oh hell," Don hissed. "Don't touch it, we'll be there asap" he promised. He hung up and relayed the message to Mac and Stella. "Rose-Marie's sicko just got sicker; she just got a basket soaked in blood."

The Desmond house, if one wanted to call it a house, was huge but modest by New York standards. A menacing security gate kept the world out and only allowed admittance after pressing the gate buzzer and speaking to someone. That same gate buzzer also had a camera built in to it, as Don found out when he was asked to show his badge.

"These people are big on privacy," he commented to Danny Messer, who had been asked to come along.

"The bigger the privacy, the bigger the challenge for some people," was the reply. "Check out those idiots," he continued, referring to the number of people hanging around the gate, all armed with long-range cameras.

Inside the foyer of the house, after being greeted with a butler with salt-and-pepper hair and a distinguished look about him, Mac, Stella, Don, and Danny were lead to the kitchen area near the back of the house.

"A baker's dream," Stella commented, looking around. "Rose-Marie must love this place."

The butler smiled fondly. "It is one of the places where she can often be found, especially when she was a little girl," he said.

"Let me guess, she helps with the baking, much to the cook's dismay," Don quipped.

"That did used to be the case at first, sir," the butler said, "but then he realized that Ms. Desmond was genuinely interested in baking and possessed that rare gift for working with delicate pastries and not having them turn into bricks."

"I envy anyone who can do that," Stella admitted.

"Where is Rose-Marie anyway?" Don asked.

"Right here," came a shaky voice as a door in the kitchen opened and Rose-Marie emerged, looking pale and shaky. "Any parcels we get, especially ones like that, we put in the kitchen or in my dad's office. As it was addressed to me, it was put in the kitchen, which is where I like to spend the majority of my meals and my coffee time." She held up a small amber-colored bottle. "Normally I won't touch alcohol, never mind this stuff, but after this, I decided I needed a shot."

"Why down there?" Don asked.

"Because we keep the super good, really expensive stuff in the wine cellar, mostly for security reasons," she explained. "And this is one of the super-duper good stuff."

"Crown Royal Cask No. 16, that is the super good stuff all right," Mac commented, recognizing the bottle.

"It was either that or the Crown Royal XR," she admitted, "but I didn't like the way it smelled, so I thought I'd try a shot of this stuff."

"You're gonna have a hell of a hang-over," Don said.

"Not really; I'm only going to take a very, very small shot; I might get a hell of a headache, but no hang-over," Rose-Marie said. "Paul, would you do the honors?" She handed him the bottle.

"Certainly, miss," he said, handling the bottle with respect and dignity. He vanished out of the kitchen and Rose-Marie took Don and the team to where the parcel was.

Ordinary brown wrapping paper lay on a simple kitchen table. On it lay a sheet of clear cellophane decorated with hearts. On that was what should have been an even prettier basket of red roses, except for the blood that was spilling from the basket, on to the table, and dripping on the floor. A strong, rotten-meat smell was coming from the basket, causing more than a few wrinkled noses.

"This came with it," Rose-Marie said, pointing to a _Garfield_ Valentine's card on the table, well away from the blood.

Danny snapped on some latex gloves and picked up the card, opening it. Inside the card was a printed message that had been taped to the inside of the card.

"A tisket, a tasket

A blood-soaked basket.

Roses aglore

For the girl I adore.

I'm bidding my time

'Cause soon you'll be mine," Danny read out-loud. "I hate to ask, but who did you piss off?" he asked Rose-Marie.

"Your guess is as good as mine at the moment," she replied tiredly, shrugging. "I guess someone thought the black roses at the bakery weren't good enough and decided to follow up with this one."

Paul reappeared beside her, holding a silver tray with a small shot glass on it. In the glass was about a finger's worth of amber liquid. Beside the glass were four other empty shot glasses and the Crown Royal Cask. No 16 bottle. "Would our guests care for a shot of the whiskey?" he asked politely.

"Normally I don't drink on the job but I can make an exception this time," Mac said. "I don't make a point of turning down a glass of the really good whiskey, especially if it's Crown Royal."

"I knew you liked your whiskey but I didn't realize it went that far," Stella quipped as Paul neatly served him a glass of the whiskey.

"This isn't just any whiskey, Stella," Mac said as he sniffed the liquid. "Crown Royal is a Canadian whiskey and one of the top sellers in the U.S. A bottle of Crown Royal Cask No. 16 goes for over $100, was introduced late in 2007, and only the Crown Royal XR is more expensive; a bottle of that stuff goes for about $160."

"Talk about expensive tastes," Danny quipped.

"And worth it; the whiskey is aged in special oak cognac caskets that are about twelve years old and from a forest in France," Mac said, taking a careful sip.

"The Limousin forest, to be exact," Paul said proudly, clearly recognizing a man who appreciated a good drink. Mac nodded in confirmation.

While Mac enjoyed his rare treat, Stella and Danny processed Rose-Marie's latest present.

"Blood isn't human, which could account for the smell," she reported.

"And so far no prints on the cellophane; the wrapping paper might be better but I'm going to need Rose-Marie's prints for elimination, as well as the prints of anyone who handled this before it got to Rose-Marie."

"Of course," Rose-Marie said. "Paul, will you find out who signed and accepted the... thing?"

"Certainly, miss," Paul said, slipping away.

"This is getting out of hand," Don said. "First the text and pictures, then the silk roses, and now this. Whoever this guy is, he knows where you live and where you frequent."

"I _do not _want to stay by myself tonight," she muttered.

"Where are the rest of your family?" Mac asked.

"Marion and Dad are out of town for the weekend at some fancy business function or another and Jay is with a bunch of friends celebrating somebody's birthday. She told me it would be an all-niter and possibly an all-weekender," Rose-Marie said.

"And the staff?" Don asked.

"The only consistent person here is Paul but he has an apartment that's attached to the house; the rest of the staff leave by nine at night at the latest, unless there's some function going on at the house," Rose-Marie said. "We've got a pretty good alarm system in place and there's a silent alarm in every room of the house but the grounds are also pretty secure and a contracted security company checks the area on a regular basis."

"And that's all fine and dandy but if a parcel like that got in, you're worried about what else might get in," Don guessed.

"Exactly," she said. She grinned at him. "We've got a really nice guest room..."

He grinned back. "New York Rangers verses New Jersey Devils tonight," he said.

"And we've got a very nice sixty-five inch HDTV widescreen plasma that you can watch the game on," she said sweetly, knowing he was a hockey fan. Danny whistled appreciatively. "Plus a top-of-the-line surround sound system so you don't miss anything, and some very comfortable leather couches so you can enjoy the game in comfort."

"And beer?" Don asked, grinning.

"Let Paul know what you like and he'll make sure there's a cold one for you when you want it," she said, grinning back.

"You don't play fair," he said.

"When I'm scared, you're damn right I don't," she shot back, allowing Stella to take her prints.

"I'll pack a bag," Don said.

It didn't take much longer for Mac, Stella, and Danny to finish processing the parcel and its contents, as well as getting prints from the house staff for elimination purposes. They gathered everything up and, after Don promised her he would be back before the hockey game started, left.

Rose-Marie was on edge for the rest of the evening, doing everything she could to relax. She personally made up the bed in the guest room across from her room and saw that it was stocked with the standard guest items. She also helped the cook, a cheerful man by the name of Daniel, make a simple but hearty dinner that could also be eaten cold. She checked her e-mail (nothing of any interest), watched the early news, did a short work-out to try and ease some of the stress, and debated with herself as to whether or not to try and seduce Don that night. Deciding not to deliberately try and seduce him, she settled on a pair of her favorite, not-at-all sexy pajamas and put them aside for later. The pajamas were a light blue, extra-extra large, crew-neck tee-shirt with Disney's Eeyore on it and dark blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms that were a bit worn from wear.

As promised, Don showed up before the hockey game started and promptly chowed down on the perfectly cooked boneless loin steak, Italian-flavored mashed potatoes, and steaming vegetables. For desert there was hot mixed berry crumble and vanilla ice cream. It was simple fare but for a man like Don who was used to cooking for himself, it was heaven. Imagine his surprise when he realized that what he had eaten was also very healthy; low in fat, plenty of nutrients, and low in calories, all things Rose-Marie had to watch as part of her diet.

"So you managed to keep it healthy without sacrificing taste," he said, polishing off the rest of his desert.

"A common misconception," she admitted. "Eating right doesn't mean giving up taste or quality, it just means making the right choices. A lean steak can actually taste as good as a regular steak but there's less fat. It's all in how it's cooked."

When the hockey game came on, Paul made sure Don had plenty of cold beer available and left the two of them in peace. Don grinned when he saw Rose-Marie's pajamas when she padded down to join him on the couch.

"And here I was expecting satin and lace," he quipped.

"Not for a hockey game," she said, grinning. "Besides, I'm saving the really good stuff for later."

"Yeah?" he asked, images coming to his mind.

"You'll find out," she teased. "But not tonight."

"Sounds promising."

She just grinned and snuggled against him on the couch.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

It was late at night when Don answered the door to his guest room. He and Rose-Marie had gone to bed fairly late but not after a very nice cuddle and make-out session, no sex though. She did promise a big surprise on the weekend, and the gleam in her eyes suggested it would more than make up for her not joining him that evening.

Now there was a knock at his door and his travel clock said it was after 2 a.m. in the morning.

It was Rose-Marie and she was looking a bit sheepish even as she looked sweet and cuddly in her pink robe and slippers with her hair in tangles about her face.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the doorframe and tugging on his pajama bottoms. "You okay?"

"Would you believe me if I said 'nightmare'?" she asked.

He smiled. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Your bed or mine?" he asked.

"Either or ither," she said, shrugging.

"Mine's closer," he said.

"In that case hope you don't mind company."

He smiled. "Always welcome. And Paul?"

"He's a butler and been with the family. He's used to Marion and he's discreet as hell; he won't say anything or even raise an eyebrow."

"Good enough for me," he said as he let her in the room and shut the door behind her. She headed for the bed and removed her robe, placing it on the chair beside the bed before removing her slippers. He joined her on the other side of the bed, a nice big king-size bed, and slipped beneath the blankets and sheets. "You going to be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just this whole weirdo business getting to me, I guess," she said as she slipped beneath the covers and snuggled up to him.

"Don't blame you; someone's got a sick sense of humour."

"But what I don't understand is why now? Is it because of the tabloids? Or is there something going on that I'm not seeing?"

"Valid questions," he admitted. "Just do yourself a favour; don't start doubting yourself. You haven't done anything wrong and the more this keeps up and the more you report it, the sooner he's going to make a mistake or leave evidence that's going to lead us straight to him and then once that happens, I promise you he will never go near you again."

"Spoken like a true knight in shining armour," she teased.

"Well, it might be a suit and tie instead of a suit of armour, but I still like the concept," he shot back, grinning. Then he softened. "Try and get some sleep. Morning will bring what morning brings."

In the morning, like clockwork, Paul went about his routine. One of the things he did was go to Rose-Marie's room and open the curtains. It was then that he noticed she wasn't in bed but he couldn't hear the shower running and her robe was missing from its customary place. A suspicion born of years of experience with the Desmond family lead him to the guest room where he knew Detective Flack was staying. Quietly opening the door to the room, he smiled to himself when he saw that his suspicions were confirmed. Snuggled against each other in spoon fashion were none other than Rose-Marie and Detective Flack. Detective Flack's chest was bare but Rose-Marie was still clearly wearing her sleep top and Paul could not see any sign of her sleep bottoms or any suggestion of the couple having been intimate during the night.

Paul nodded to himself. Yes, perhaps young Ms. Desmond had finally found a good man if she could spend the night in the same bed as he and not have intercourse.

He straightened himself to his full, proper height, pulled his dignity together, and proceeded to continue his routine. This included stepping inside the guest room and opening the curtains. As he did, Rose-Marie stirred.

"'Morning, Paul," she said sleepily.

"Good morning, miss. Did you sleep well?" he asked politely.

She gave him a sleepy smile. "Aside from a late-night nightmare, yes, I did, thank you. I know Don's got to go to work today so could we add coffee and a quick breakfast with scrambled eggs to the morning breakfast?" she asked, stretching. "He mentioned it to me last night that he likes scrambled eggs with sweet peppers in them."

"Of course, miss. And bacon and toast, perhaps?"

"That, sir, is every guy's dream breakfast," came Don's sleepy voice as he woke up. Rose-Marie had warned him about Paul and his morning daily routine.

"Excellent. I shall inform the cook," Paul said, bowing slightly before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.

"Nice guy," Don said.

"Been with the family for as long as I can remember. He's close to retiring and it's his right as he's earned it but I'm gonna miss him."

He nodded. "What's your normal routine?"

"Fifteen minute work-out in the gym then breakfast," she said. "Then a shower and then I check my agenda and that's usually up for grabs."

"Fifteen minute work-out, huh? What do you do?"

"Treadmill. It's one of those Bowflex TreadClimber ones. I use both the stairclimber and the treadmill mode, called the Elliptical mode, and I find it gives me a pretty good work-out without actually having to do too much."

"Good for the heart and easy on the knees," he said, recognizing the brand.

"Exactly. You're welcome to join me," she said. "Good way to start the day."

He glanced at his clock and said, "Tell you what, maybe next time, because I need to shower and shave."

She smiled. "Got to look good for the girls in court, huh?" she teased.

"And the girls who I got to ask questions to; the better I look the easier it is to turn on the charm," he shot back, grinning.

"Oh you've got plenty of charm, buster," she said. "That's how I wound up at your place that first time, never mind letting you buy me a drink!"

He just grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

Fifteen minutes later, at the kitchen table Don sat down and sniffed appreciatively as a heavy-set black man placed a steaming plate of scrambled eggs with sweet green and red peppers mixed in, fresh-cooked bacon, and toast in front of him. A cup of steaming hot coffee joined the plate.

"Thanks," he said as he dug in with the fork and knife that had already been placed on the table.

The man, Daniel, nodded once, and vanished. "Always good to see a man enjoy his food. Don't get that often enough," he said as he walked away. A few minutes later Rose-Marie joined him, now wearing sweatshorts and a tank top and carrying a glass of orange juice. She smiled at him.

"I take it Daniel's scrambled eggs are up to your standards?" she asked as she sat down at the table.

"Very much so. He cooks bacon the way it should be cooked," Don said.

"Glad to hear that," Daniel said, coming back with a new plate of scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, and toast. He set that in front of Rose-Marie and said, "Oh, by the way, Judith-Ann and Donovan are back and in the main dining area."

Rose-Marie dropped her head and groaned. "Damn, I was hoping to avoid them."

"Problems?" Don asked.

"Nothing major. I get along just fine with Jay, you know that, but Donovan, he's an idiot in a Greek god's body," Rose-Marie said. "He hangs around Jay like a groupie more than anything else. I'm not even sure if she's sleeping with him or not but I know he stays in one of the guest rooms so often the room is practically his."

"His last name?" Don asked, taking out his notepad and pen and making a note in it.

"Bullman," she said. "As far as I know. If he's in the dining area, you can ask him yourself."

"Good idea. I'm gonna need his prints as well, and your sister's prints for elimination purposes," he said.

"I think we can spare a few glasses for that," she said. "Jay doesn't know what's going on and I'd rather she didn't."

Daniel nodded, catching on. "I'll let Boss Man know," he said, walking away.

"Boss Man?" Don asked, puzzled by the name.

"It's what Daniel calls Paul. It's not an insult, trust me. Paul practically runs the household staff and has done for years," Rose-Marie explained.

Don nodded in understanding. A moment later Paul appeared, carrying a glass and a coffee mug on a tray. "The coffee mug belongs to Judith-Ann and the glass belongs to Donovan Bullman," he said. "Do you require anything else?"

"Two large freezer bags if you have 'em," Don said. "And a black permanent marker."

"Understood."

Once the glass and coffee mug were put in the freezer bags and the bags labelled, Don and Rose-Marie left the kitchen to meet Judith-Ann and Donovan, who were seated at the dining room table. As usual, Donovan was bare-chested and wearing what looked like sleep pants. Rose-Marie ignored him like she always did but greeted her sister.

"Morning Jay. Didn't know you were back. The party go okay?" she asked, swiping a croissant from the breakfast bar.

Eyeing Don appreciatively, Judith-Ann said, "Party got dull when several people got busted by the cops."

"Ouch," Rose-Marie said. "Too much noise or what?"

"Couple of guys got drunk and started flashing the girls on the beach," Judith-Ann said.

"Public lewdness, that would do it," Don said. "Cops don't take kindly to idiots flashing their nuts at anyone, drunk or not."

"And you are?" Donavan asked, sneering slightly and clearly not liking the newcomer.

Don flashed him his brightest shark smile. "Detective Don Flack, New York PD."

"Thought you looked familiar," Judith-Ann said, coming up to him. "You're the guy Rose-Marie was seen with at that bar."

"That would be me," he said, studying Rose-Marie's sister. Like her sister, Judith-Ann was a brunette and they shared similar facial shapes. The difference between them, however, was that Judith-Ann was a bit more tanned and her hair, while a bit sleep-tousled, was elegantly cut. She wore a satin robe that had been deliberately tied to flash her cleavage and left Don wondering if she was wearing anything under it. Diamond studs were in her ears and were probably worth more than he made in one month. Like Rose-Marie, she wore a MedicAlert bracelet but hers was gold with matching twisted gold rope holding it in place and she wore hers on her left wrist instead of her right. Unlike Rose-Marie, her nails were perfectly manicured and painted dark red, just like her toe nails.

"I'm surprised she let you stay here," Judith-Ann said.

"Wanted the company and bribed him with the flatscreen so he could watch the Rangers game last night," Rose-Marie said.

"Ah," Judith-Ann said, clearly not believing a word of it but knowing that now was not the time to pry.

"Anyway, sweetheart, I need to get going or my supervisor is going to have my ass," Don said, leaning down and giving Rose-Marie a kiss that curled her toes. He completely ignored their present company, including Donovan, who was still glowering at them. "I'll call you later," he said softly.

"You do that; I'll be at the bakery again today as Mama Gemma has a wedding order to fill and I promised her I'd give her a hand," Rose-Marie said, her face flushing.

He grinned. "Expect a visit."

Later that day, heading for his car to head to the courthouse, he was stopped by a co-worker who wanted to ask him a few questions about a case. Danny Messer, who was riding with him, went ahead. When Don got there, it was to find Danny studying the side of his car with a look of concern.

"Uh, Don, I think Rose-Marie's stalker has noticed your attentions," Danny said, spotting Don.

"What do you mean?" he asked, coming over to where Danny was standing.

Danny pointed to the car and said, "Got the name of a good autobody paint shop? 'Cause I think you're going to need to pay them a visit."

Don stared at his car in shock, where bright yellow spray paint now decorated the driver-side door, passenger door, and windows.

"I'll call Mac and tell him to bring a kit and camera," Danny said.

LEAVE HER ALONE!!! SHE'S MINE!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Okay, so things are starting to settle down in my personal life and hopefully they will stay that way, at least long enough for me to get through the remainder of my 2nd pregnancy without too much stress.... Thanks again for all the kind reviews as always....

**Chapter 8**

After the little paint job on Don's car, the stalker left both him and Rose-Marie alone for a few days. When Rose-Marie found out what the stalker had done to Don's car she was understandably upset and offered not only to pay for the cost of repairing his car but also loaning him a car of her own until the paint job was done. The car she lent him turned out to be a new 2009 Chevrolet Malibu LTZ in Black Granite Metallic, one she had just bought as a way of tripping up the paparazzi. Her other car, a 1962 two-door Chevrolet Chevy II Nova convertible in black, had been her mother's favourite car and Rose-Marie had inherited it when she'd earned her driver's licence.

Don accepted Rose-Marie's offer for both the car loan and the payment of the repair bill, mostly because he knew she blamed herself for what had happened and partly because, well, how often did one get to drive a car that was just off the market, especially a really good one like the Chevrolet Malibu LTZ?

_Meanwhile:_

"I don't like him," Donovan said.

"Who?" Judith-Ann asked absently, looking up from her book. She and Donovan were in the Desmond pool room, relaxing after an invigorating swim in the heated pool. They were both lounging on the pool chairs and Paul had just left them after serving ice-cold drinks; a Frozen Passion Margarita for her and a Hennessy and Cherry Coke for Donovan.

"That guy who was with your sister," Donovan said.

"Oh, you mean Don Flack," Judith-Ann said. She shrugged. "What's it to you? Rosie barely tolerates you as it is, so who she sees is none of your business."

"It would be nice if she just gave me a chance," Donovan muttered.

Judith-Ann sighed. She knew Donovan thought her sister was cute but she also knew Rose-Marie thought Donovan was a brainless idiot who only hung around her because of her name. Judith-Ann privately admitted Donovan was great to look at, fabulous in bed, and could hold a decent conversation but beyond that, well, he really didn't have much to his name, not even a steady job or a college degree of some sort. He was also pretty obsessed with his looks, which is probably the main reason he didn't like Don Flack; those baby blue eyes against his dark hair could turn any woman's head, even hers, and Donovan hadn't failed to notice that. Don Flack's looks were _au natural_ and he looked damn good in his suit and tie the morning he'd introduced himself to them, whereas Donovan spent countless hours working out and tanning and making sure his wardrobe contained the latest 'in' fashion, whatever that might be.

"Look, I admit Rosie can be a bit prejudice-"

"A _bit?_" Donovan muttered.

She glared at him but continued. "But she has her reasons and you haven't exactly endured yourself to her by constantly going into her room even though she's asked you repeatedly not to. She's been burnt badly by several guys who used her or hung out with her only because of her name. She hangs out with Don because he treats her like a person, a woman, not something to be worshiped or followed around like a puppy dog. She puts up with you because you hang with me, just like every other person who hangs with me; that doesn't mean she has to like you."

And that was what little Rose-Marie had told her. She suspected there was something more going on, something Rose-Marie hadn't told her. Sure, she knew someone had gotten Rose-Marie's cell number and sent a bunch of scary text messages and pictures which had resulted in her changing her cell number and asking Judith-Ann if she'd given her number out to anyone she felt was less than honest. She hadn't, of course, but she could understand why Rose-Marie had asked; her sister was big on privacy and never forgave anyone who violated or abused that trust that she placed in someone when it came to her private information. Judith-Ann would never betray that trust, just as she knew Rose-Marie would never betray the same trust she placed in her. That didn't mean there weren't others who adhered to the same principles, like their dear step-mother, Marion.

"Look, Donnie, I know you don't like Don Flack but he's seeing Rosie and you're not. What she does and who she sees is her business, not yours," Judith-Ann said. "If she's given cause to think you've violated her privacy or interfered where you're not welcome she'll cut your balls off and I won't be far behind. Stay out of my sister's private life." She gave him a dark glare over the top of her sunglasses to accompany her warning before returning to her book. As it was, she did not see the ugly look that crossed Donovan's face.

_Valentine's Day:_

Rose-Marie glared at the dozen dried, very dead, roses that had just arrived at the Little Italy Bakery. Once again, her stalker had struck and on Valentine's Day, of all days.

"Be my valentine, dead or alive," she muttered, reading the card that had come with the flowers. "Who does this moron think he is?" She had just called Don to let him know about the flowers and he promised to come over as soon as he could get away from court but would send someone from the crime lab over to photograph and record the evidence.

Sure, the stalker had left her and Don alone after spray-painting Don's car. However, according to a criminal psychologist Don had paid a visit to, that didn't mean the stalker had stopped or given up; whoever it was may simply be bidding their time. The psychologist also recommended that instead of getting scared, get mad, as getting mad was usually the opposite of what the stalker expected and anger provided more strength than fear.

Don had passed the information on to Rose-Marie and she had taken it to heart, liking how the anger felt over the constant fear.

"So basically we tell this jackass to go screw himself and that we'll do what we chose to do?" she'd asked over lunch where they had agreed to meet after Don had spoken to the psychologist.

"Pretty much, yeah," he said.

"I can live with that," she said.

"That doesn't mean you get any less careful, though," he cautioned.

"That's pretty much a given," she replied.

Now she studied the dried roses. They'd be pretty if it weren't for the message that came with them. "Go screw yourself, buster," she said out-loud. "I'm gonna enjoy tonight and you're not gonna ruin it for me." _And boy do I have plans for Mr. Flack_, she thought grinning mischievously, thinking of the various items she'd purchased and the dinner reservation they had at the St. Regis Hotel for the hotel's annual Valentine Dinner.

The promised crime scene investigator showed up and quickly photographed the flowers and card before taking them into evidence. The accompanying officer took her statement and also promised to add it to the growing file. A short while later, Don showed up, looking a bit wind-swept and a bit concerned.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm not scared, just angry that Mr. Sicko would pull that kind of stunt on a day like this but then again I'm also not really surprised, given the pattern of the previous 'gifts', if you will."

He nodded. "That's good; get angry, not scared. Has a crime scene investigator been by yet?"

"Come and gone," she said. "Along with the lovely roses and matching card. And speaking of cards, hang on a sec." She vanished into Mama Gemma's office and reappeared a moment later with a cream-colored envelope and his name written in calligraphy on it. "Your formal invitation to the St. Regis Valentine Dinner tonight. You'll need it to get past the main door."

He looked at her and saw the mischief in her eyes. "What are you up to?" he asked.

She grinned. "Show up at seven and you'll find out. There's a vehicle reservation card in there for your car so all you have to do is show it to the valet and he'll take care of the rest. Dinner's at seven-thirty sharp. Don't be late and be prepared for the night of your life." She gave him a kiss and shooed him out the door.

Don arrived at the St. Regis Hotel a few minutes before seven and handed the valet the parking reservation after taking out his over-night bag. Another valet took the bag and assured him it would be sent straight up to the appropriate room.

When he saw the inside of the hotel he was immediately glad he'd chosen to shave and shower before coming to the hotel. He was also wearing his best suit, tie, and shirt, and had brought along a red rose for Rose-Marie. Tucked in one pocket was also a necklace with a floating sterling silver heart that was accented with a 14k gold heart. He planned to give that to her later, after dinner and whatever else she had in mind; he had a sneaking suspicion that whatever she had planned for him would prove to be very, very interesting. He grinned.

Inside, after showing his invitation at the desk, he was directed to the doors of the hotel's ballroom where he waited for Rose-Marie to arrive.

"Don," she said from behind him.

He turned... and nearly swallowed his tongue. A vision in red walked towards him, a vision whose name was Rose-Marie Desmond.

She wore a red jersey dress with a flowing knee-length skirt and a shirred bodice that twisted at the centre of a sweet heart neckline. Black crisscross ankle-strap pumps were on her feet and rhinestone heart earrings dangled from her ears, revealed by the fact that her hair was up in an elegant twist. She carried a black clutch and a pretty black lace shawl was draped around her shoulders.

She smiled shyly at him. "Hi," she said.

"Hi yourself," he replied, finding his voice having gone husky. He handed her the rose, which she accepted, taking a sniff at it and smiling. "Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm. She slipped her arm through his and they headed for the ballroom.

Don was sure the food was excellent and the music was good but he was too busy looking at Rose-Marie. When the couples hit the dance floor, so did they and he could not keep his hands off of her.

She noticed.

"Would you like to stay for desert or would you like to find out what my version of desert is?" she asked huskily.

"Your version of desert?" he asked. "I think I like that idea."

Her version of desert included fresh fruit and melted chocolate. When he asked if it was safe for her, she assured him it was a special kind of chocolate, one made with those with diabetes in mind. It didn't taste any different than regular chocolate but that might have had something to do with the company. For drinks, it was diet gingerale for her and wine for him.

And when he found out what she was wearing under her dress, he was very glad he'd made sure he'd brought plenty of condoms because he had a feeling he would not be able to keep his hands off of her for much longer.

Red; that was all he could see. Red unlined demi bra, garter belt, and thong panties, and stockings in nude. The necklace he gave her gleamed against her skin, skin he couldn't resist tasting.

The room had a hot tub and they made full use of it, delighting and exploring in the new sensations of bubble bath on skin.

Don knew that no matter what happened down the road between him and Rose-Marie, this was one night he would always remember. He knew her stalker was out there somewhere, waiting and watching, but that was not now. Now it was just him and her and pure pleasure.

_And at the Desmond residence, Donovan proceeded to get rip-snorting drunk. As a result, Judith-Ann called a cab and kicked him out of the house. He responded by heading for Marion's open arms and equally open bed...._


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **sorry for the slight delay in up-dates but I've been working on how to progress things in a satisfactory manner. Believe me when I say I have big, bad plans for Rose-Marie and the Desmond family in the coming future.

**Chapter 9**

"Anything new from the stalker?" Danny asked Don as he carefully lined up his shot on the pool table in preparation to sink one of the balls.

Don shook his head then took a swig of his beer. "_Nada_. No sign, no present, no text pictures, no nothing, for the last two weeks. Makes me a bit nervous."

"And Rosie?" Danny shot the pool cue forward, hitting his target ball with a resounding _clack!_

"Also nervous but glad for the break. She's been having fun consoling her sister after Donovan got drunk and she was forced to kick him out. From what I understand, things got a bit ugly there for bit."

"The lives of the rich and famous," Danny quipped. "I'll place bets that by the end of the month, Donovan will be back in Rosie's sister's good graces."

"I don't know; I get the feeling there's more going on than just a guy with an eighty-dollar haircut getting drunk," Don said. "You going to that hockey game on Wednesday?" he asked, changing the subject. The hockey game in question was a regular charity event between the local PD and FD, one that Don attended every chance he got. Sometimes he played, sometimes he didn't, but he always went to the game, partly in support of the charity and partly in support of the PD.

"Me and Lindsay, provided she's feeling up to it," Danny said, referring to his long-time, very pregnant co-worker and girlfriend. "Rosie coming?"

"Was thinking about asking her," Don admitted. "Fortunately the paparazzi have been leaving her alone as of late."

"Still say that was a nice shot of you two at the St. Regis," Danny teased. Don just grinned.

There had been a photograph of Don and Rose-Marie at the St. Regis Hotel in the Post but the shot only showed them dancing, nothing else, and looking like every other ordinary couple attending the hotel's Valentine's Day dinner. No one inside the Desmond family had commented on the photo or the story and it had died shortly afterwards.

The next day Don extended Rose-Marie the invitation, explained the event, and she accepted. She had never been to a charity hockey game before and suspected they could be a lot of fun. She also suspected it would give her a chance to see another side of Don Flack, the side where he was actually having fun in public, and not just with her. When she was told the name of the charity, an idea came to her and she made a phone call to a friend, who promised to get back to her ASAP. The said friend did call back and the resulting conversation had Rose-Marie calling the organizer of the charity hockey game with a suggestion and an offer. Then she called her sister and promptly spent the next fifteen minutes nagging, coaxing, and sweet-talking into convincing Judith-Ann into coming to the hockey game.

At the hockey game Don felt himself having to pick his jaw up off the floor when he saw Judith-Ann. Gone was the sophisticated glamour girl; in its place was a pretty woman who bore a strong resemblance to his girlfriend. She had even dressed down, dispensing with the red nails and diamond earrings, instead wearing bootcut jeans, a lace tank top in dark purple, a bouclé blazer sweater in sable heather, tan buckle riding boots, and a tan suede and wool coat. She had even pulled her hair back into a perfectly ordinary pony-tail. She looked a bit apprehensive at first but relaxed after Rose-Marie introduced her to a few people, including Danny, Lindsay, and Stella and her current boyfriend, Brendon Walsh, a firefighter for the FDNY. Mac would have joined them had he not been on call, but he did promise to try and drop by when he could.

"What's the story?" Don quietly asked when they had a moment alone. Rose-Marie had mentioned bringing her sister but Don got the feeling there was more going on than what Rose-Marie was letting on.

"Donovan's being a pain in the ass and so is Marion. I don't know the whole story about what happened between the pair of them on V-Day because Jay's being pretty tight-lipped about it, but I think something more happened than what she's letting on and I think it got to her pretty badly," Rose-Marie admitted. "This is my way of trying to distract her, get her to see things from a different perspective, I guess."

"That's nice of you."

She shrugged. "We may not always see eye to eye on things, especially in regards to the whole public thing, but she is my sister and I do care about her."

The phone calls Rose-Marie had made were to a local band she had known in college and who liked to do charity events. They had never done anything on ice before and had considered it a worthwhile challenge. During intermission they surprised everyone and did a number of favourites on the ice, everything from Elton John's greatest hits to Clint Black to Keith Urban, plus a few of their own numbers. Another surprise was yet another friend of Rose-Marie's, who was a comedian who was working his way through the circuits; he had already made an appearance on the Comedy Network's Comedy Now show, as well as several appearances at the New York Comedy Club, Comic Strip Live, and EastVille Comedy Club, to name a few. By the time he was finished poking fun at everyone and anything (the NYPD and the FDNY got their fair share of jabs) there were a lot of sore ribs.

All in all, the charity organization managed to double their donations, largely in part to a very large donation by an anonymous donor.

Rose-Marie then invited Don to help her deliver a load of baked goods to one of Mama Gema's favourite shelters and dragged her sister along with her. During the process Don realized he was seeing a more private side of Rose-Marie, one that the tabloids and the newspapers were not fortunate enough to see. She spoke with ease to the shelter volunteers and spoke just as gently to the women and children at the shelter. Had Don not known of her privileged upbringing, he would not have even suspected she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Here, just like at the Little Italy Bakery, she wasn't Rose-Marie Desmond, she was Bella Donald, an ordinary, hard-working woman who wanted to do her part to help make a difference in the world.

It was then that Don began to realize he was doing what he didn't think he'd do for quite a while, especially after Jessica Angell; he was falling in love with Rose-Marie Desmond.

_A week and a half later:_

They were watching Letterman and sharing a pepperoni pizza. It was a perfectly ordinary, perfectly boring night, and Rose-Marie was worried.

Don didn't seem to be interested in her sexually these days, based on the fact that their sex life had gone from red hot to almost non-existent. She worried he was losing interest in her, just as she was beginning to understand she was falling in love with him, probably had been for some time. She had tried not to fall, tried to stick to her promise of not taking their relationship seriously and becoming another clinging girlfriend, but Don made that damn near impossible. Kind, attentive, you name it, he was her daydreams made flesh, and she didn't want that daydream to end just yet.

But sooner or later the glamour was going to wear off for Don; after all, what was the point in having a girlfriend when you couldn't go out in public without risking being seen by the press or the paparazzi?

As for Don, he seemed to be a bit distant. She attributed it to work stress, as things had gone a bit haywire when the police had been hit with the 'blue flu', as it had been called, and they still were a bit haywire but not nearly as bad as they had been.

The stalker was leaving them alone for now as it was going on three weeks since the last incident. She sincerely hoped they were left alone permanently and that whoever had been playing with them had given up. Still, there was that nagging fear that this was only the calm before the storm. Maybe Don felt that because there had been so much silence from the stalker she didn't need protection any more. Maybe that was what had kept him coming back to her; his sense of responsibility and duty.

But what about the first time? What about that first night? Sure, it was only supposed to be a one-night stand thing but he could have refused the second date or ended things after the dinner. Of course, by that time the stalker had made himself known, she reminded herself.

Her depression worsening, she struggled to keep a lid on it and enjoy things with Don while she could, even as she mentally went through her favourite lingerie websites to see what she could order that might help spice things up a bit. Maybe a teddy? Or one of those super sexy bra and thong sets? Crochless panties? Of course, the question wasn't so much as _what_ but _how?_

She had to do something and fast because she didn't want to lose Don, not just yet.

Don was aware that the sex between him and Rose-Marie had gotten a little quiet as of late but it was deliberate on his part; he was trying to find out, oh so subtly, if it was sex that had drawn Rose-Marie to him and sex that kept her coming back. Yeah, the stalker was leaving them alone, for now, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't over, not by a long shot. Sure, he felt a sense of duty to protect her from that sicko but that was only part of it.

A few days later he got his answer.

There was a shoot-out between him, several other officers, and a suspect after the suspect, wanted in a robbery-turned-homicide, had led the police on a chase through New York. Then the suspect had made full use of an Ingram submachine gun, as well as a SIG-Sauer semi-automatic pistol, resulting in officers scrambling for cover before finally taking him out. A few officers had been injured in the firefight, thankfully no-one was seriously hit but the fight had been ugly for a bit, especially with several civilians caught in the cross-fire. Don had been in the area at the time of the shooting and had gone to assist the officers involved. That had led to a near-miss as the suspect had managed to shoot out his car windows in the process while he tried to cover an injured officer who had been trying to protect a frightened civilian who had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The firefight made the local news and Don was unintentionally spotted. Rose-Marie was alerted by Mama Gema, who had been watching the news, and she panicked.

Wisely deciding to avoid the police station as she knew it would be packed with reporters, she headed for Don's apartment and pounded on his door; he opened it a minute later, having just gotten out of the shower and had a towel around his waist.

"Are you okay?" she demanded, having heard that one of the officers involved in the shooting had been injured but the reports hadn't said who. "I heard the news about the shoot-out and Mama Gema said she saw you."

He nodded, letting her in. "Yeah, I'm fine; the officer who was hit is going to be off work for a bit but he'll be okay."

"Good, that's good. And the jerk that started the whole thing?"

He watched as she paced restlessly; something was up. "He won't be doing that stunt again anytime soon, not unless he can shoot from Hell." Rose-Marie nodded. "Rose, you okay?" he asked.

She stopped pacing, closed her eyes and bit her lip. He went to her and put his hands on her shoulders, watching as tears began to form under her lashes. "I promised, I promised myself I wouldn't do this to you, that I wouldn't become one of those clinging girlfriends, like the ones you've dealt with before. Hell, I even promised myself I wouldn't even put myself in the category of being your girlfriend. Figured it would be easier that way, in case you ever got bored with me and I had to let you go."

She turned her head away as a tear slipped down her face.

"But it's not working, is it?" he asked softly, starting to understand what was going on. She shook her head.

"No, it's not because I went ahead and did something really, really stupid," she admitted, opening her eyes but not looking at him. "I fell in love with you and when I heard about the shooting and how an officer had been injured, all I could think of was finding out whether or not you were safe. I know you're a cop and you put your life on the line every day; it's who you are and I wouldn't expect anything less, but that didn't stop the fear or the worry." Once she started, it was like a dam bursting. "You've been so distant lately and we haven't been intimate lately that I've been afraid I was losing you, that you were growing bored with me, maybe even considering letting me go all together. If that's the case, Don, say so now and get it over with; I'm a big girl and I'll understand." She closed her eyes and waited for the proverbial axe to fall.

She felt him press his forehead against hers, cup her face in his hands, and say, "Back up and say that again."

"Say what again?" she asked, confused.

"About falling in love with me," he said. "Did you mean it?"

She opened her eyes and found herself looking directly into pale blue eyes, eyes that stared back at her with a seriousness she hadn't seen before. "I meant it. Don't ask me when or how, I just know I did and I can't stop. I don't want to stop."

"Good," he said. And then he was kissing her. "I had to be sure," he said between kisses. "I had to be sure it was me you wanted, not just the sex. That's why I pulled away like that; I was giving you the chance to get bored, to walk away, because I had to know."

"I was starting to think I was going to have to seduce you to get your attention again," she got out.

"That's not a bad thing; I like it when you do that," he said. "Makes things interesting."

"You like teddies?" she somehow managed to ask.

"Love 'em," he said.

"In that case, my love, you're gonna love the one I'm wearing," she said.

He pulled back and looked at her, a grin coming across his face. "You're wearing a teddy under your clothes?"

She blushed. "Something I ordered from _Fredrick's of Hollywood_; strappy little black thing. I was trying it on when Mama Gema called me and let me know about the shooting. Didn't take the time to change out of it before taking off to here."

"In that case, sweetheart, you are not going anywhere tonight, not until I've seen this teddy of yours," he said, suddenly picking her up and carrying her to his room. Her giggles quickly turned to moans and the shooting, the world, and everything that went with it was quickly forgotten.

Unfortunately the world has a way of intruding, whether one likes it or not. This was the case the next morning when Rose-Marie and Don headed to where she had parked her car. During the night, someone had been a bit liberal with the spray-paint and now Rose-Marie's car was covered in ugly graffiti and words, the predominant ones being "WHORE!" and "SLUT!"

"Nice way to start the day," she mumbled, even as Don got out his cell to call the crime lab. The stalker was back.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I did warn you..... thanks again for the reviews and your patience.

**Chapter 10**

Rose-Marie was cold, very, very cold. She was huddled on Mac Taylor's couch and wrapped in Don's overcoat, hot coffee in her hands, and she was still cold. Someone put a blanket around her and she smiled automatically but even she knew there was no life in the smile.

Less than forty-eight hours ago things had been good.

She was in love with a good man who loved her back, her stalker was leaving them alone for now, and her sister had dumped Donovan in public after loudly asking Marion if she liked her men second-hand due to the fact that Donovan had gone from her bed to Marion's bed after she had kicked him off the Desmond property. The tabloids had attacked with a vengeance, going after both Donovan and Marion like sharks in a feeding frenzy. Marion had come off looking cheap and Judith-Ann had become the victim.

Donovan? Well, he quickly acquired the moniker of "Second-Hand Donovan." He was currently facing a law-suit for punching out a camera man.

About a week ago Don had taken Rose-Marie to a charity ball and invited Judith-Ann along after getting more details about the drunken-Donovan-Valentine's-Day incident. He had introduced the elder Desmond sister to a few officers as a friend and watched in amusement as she turned on the charm. One officer in particular, a seasoned SWAT member, had seriously caught her attention and Rose-Marie later confided to Don that Judith-Ann had agreed to a dinner date with the officer and that things looked promising.

Then all hell had broken loose.

Forty-eight hours ago, Emergency services had received a call informing them of a homicide at the guesthouse of the Desmond residence. The caller had identified himself as Paul, the Desmond butler, and had explained to the first officer on the scene that Rose-Marie had become concerned about her sister and had gone to the guesthouse, where Judith-Ann had been staying as of late, only to come upon a horror scene ripped right out of every bad horror movie.

There had been blood everywhere.

Rose-Marie remembered screaming uncontrollably and she was certain Ramon had heard her. She vaguely remembered being picked up and hauled out of the guesthouse. After that, things got even more blurry.

Don had shown up and so had what looked like a dozen cops and crime scene investigators. Then the media had shown up and it had been a feeding frenzy all over again.

From what the investigators could discern, Judith-Ann had been hit from behind, possibly after getting out of the tub or shower, flipped over, and then been bludgeoned to death with something heavy, possibly the large candlestick holder that had been discovered nearby, covered in blood and brain-matter. Blood had been everywhere; the ceiling, the walls, the windows, the floor, and Judith-Ann's face had been a raw mess of blood and bone. The medical examiner, Sid Hammerback, suspected Judith-Ann never had a chance to fight back and quite possibly never saw the attack coming, the hit to the back of her head probably the last thing she ever knew.

Investigators quickly learned Marion was missing and a city-wide hunt had begun for her. That ended when another call was made to Emergency services, this time informing them where they could find Marion.

She had been found in a garbage bin behind a local hotel and, upon initial examination, appeared to have been strangled to death from behind. She had been dumped in the trash with, to quote the caller, the rest of the trash, where she apparently belonged.

The media frenzy had been bad before; with Marion's murder, it got worse. And then it got even worse less than six hours later when word got out that, upon receiving the news about Marion's death on top of his eldest daughter's murder, the senior Desmond had suffered a massive heart attack.

He was alive, barely, and half-way across the country.

It had been up to Rose-Marie to formally identify Marion's body. The medical examiner, Sid Hammerback, had been kind and courteous to her, especially when he saw Don with her and understood the two of them to be together. He was even kinder when he learned that Rose-Marie had lost her mother years before to cancer and that her father was not far behind in joining her, thanks to what doctors were calling a massive myocardial infarction brought on by stress, grief, and high blood pressure.

Now Rose-Marie was in Mac's office and wrapped in Don's overcoat and a blanket. She was aware than an officer was just outside Mac's office, apparently on guard duty.

She didn't know where to go or what to do. She knew there was a massive investigation going on and both she and her father needed to be in protective custody until the police could figure out what was going on and if she was a target as well, or even a suspect. She knew she wasn't a suspect in Marion's murder because Sid had determined that Marion had been murdered approximately an hour to two hours after Judith-Ann and that Judith-Ann had been murdered approximately two hours before Rose-Marie had discovered her sister's body; she had been in police custody when Marion had been murdered.

Someone stood in front of her and she looked up; it was Don.

"Hey," he said softly, sitting down beside her.

"Hey yourself," she replied, moving to snuggle against him, needing the contact.

"Just spoke to Mac; you've been cleared of your sister's death," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "There's no evidence that says you even laid a hand on her. Phone and computer records confirm you weren't anywhere near the guesthouse at the time of the murder." She nodded; she had been talking to a friend and doing some internet-related transactions at the time. "Any word from your dad?"

"He's asking that both of us come to Los Angeles as soon as possible; the doctors don't think he has a lot of time and are reluctant to fly him home," she said.

"Both of us?" he asked, puzzled by the request.

"Yeah, he knows I'm seeing you and for some reason, he didn't say what, but for some reason he was insistent that you come with me," she said. Don nodded. "Am I allowed to leave the state?" she asked.

"Yes, now that you've been cleared as a suspect. When do you want to go?"

"As soon as possible," she said. "Sid said it may be a while before they release Jay and Marion to the funeral home because of the murder investigation. We have a private jet that will get us to Los Angeles without having to go through the airport and allows us to avoid the media while we're at it."

He nodded. "I'll talk to my supervisor," he said.

Her brow furrowed as something came to mind. "Don, did you guys ever find Jay's MedicAlert bracelet?"

His brow furrowed. "It wasn't on her when you found her?"

She shook her head. "I don't remember seeing it. You've seen it; you know what it looks like. Her bracelet is rather hard to miss and it's sealed like mine."

"That's true and you're right; I do remember having seen it on her wrist the last time I saw her but I don't think I saw it on her when she was at the guesthouse," he said. "In fact, I don't even remember seeing it among her personal effects or anything that Sid took off her body." He got out his cell and called Mac. "Hey Mac, listen, by any chance did you guys find a gold MedicAlert bracelet at the scene? It was supposed to be on Judith-Ann's right wrist and it was gold-plated, with three gold ropes. Not likely, because Judith-Ann had the clasp removed and had the bracelet sealed together permanently. The only way to get it off would be to cut it off with wire cutters. I don't remember seeing it on the body and Rose says she doesn't remember seeing it when she found her sister. Okay, okay thanks." He hung up and turned back to Rose-Marie. "Mac doesn't remember seeing the bracelet either but is going to check through the photos and gathered evidence to be sure."

"I'm sure I didn't see it when I found her," Rose-Marie mumbled.

"Do you remember if anything was missing from Marion?" he asked.

She thought for a moment then nodded. "Yeah, a ring on her right hand. It's a honkin' big thing, diamond and sapphire in gold and platinum, if I remember right. I think she originally got it from Birks in Canada and I think it was one of the first pieces of jewellery Dad got her." She shook her head. "I remember seeing her wedding ring and engagement ring among the stuff Sid took off her but I don't remember seeing that ring."

"Can it be pawned?" he asked.

"More than likely," she said. "I'm sure there's a picture of her with it on Facebook somewhere."

Mac came into the office, a crease between his brows as he pursued a file in his hands. "There's no record of anyone having seen or finding Judith-Ann's MedicAlert bracelet anywhere on the body or on the scene," he said. "The only thing we found was what looked like a link that had been cut with pliers."

"And someone may have taken a ring from Marion's body," Don said. He repeated what Rose-Marie had told him.

Mac got on his cell and called Sid, asking him about the ring. Sid reported back that he had not found such a ring on Marion, other than her wedding band and engagement ring on her left hand. He did note that there was a tan line on Marion's right hand, where a ring had once been. Mac called Stella, who was investigating Marion's murder, and let her know about the missing ring. She apparently promised to check the dumpster and the hotel room that Marion had last been seen in and see if they could find the ring.

Mac then had Rose-Marie find him a picture of Judith-Ann's bracelet and she did him one better, going straight to the MedicAlert website and showing him the actual bracelet. This picture was printed up and added to the file.

"Okay, Rose-Marie, for obvious reasons, until we have more information about the murders, I think it would be best if you were placed in protective custody," Mac said.

"Dad is asking for me and he's in Los Angeles," Rose-Marie said. "Don said I can leave the state and I was thinking about flying out to Los Angeles to be with Dad. For some reason Dad also wants Don to come with me; something about how it was important that he meet Don."

"Did the doctors say how bad his heart was?" Mac asked.

"They said another heart attack will kill him and that surgery will do the same," she said. "He's running out of time and he knows it." Mac nodded.

"If I get her out of the city for a while, it will get her away from the media," Don said. "I can protect her better that way." Again Mac nodded.

"I'll talk to your supervisor," he said. "How are you planning to get to Los Angeles?"

"Private jet," she said. "It avoids the airports and it's owned by the company; there'll be a paper trail but I can talk to Amy about that and I'm sure she'll find a way to put someone else's name on the passenger list."

"Amy?" Mac asked, not recognizing the name.

"Sorry; she's Dad's executive assistant. I've never had any problems with her and we get along pretty good," she explained. "I think, in this case, she'll know what to do and how to do it."

"Call her and have her book a flight to Los Angeles as soon as possible," Mac said. "And emphasize the need for discretion, security, and speed."

Rose-Marie took out her cell and hit a speed-dial number. A moment later, she said, "Amy, it's Rose-Marie. Make the arrangements for two and preferably as soon as possible." She listened for a moment then said, "That sounds good. I'll ask." She looked at Don and said, "How tall are you, what's your shoe size, are you allergic to anything, and will you be carrying your weapon with you?" Don told her how tall he was, his shoe size, said he wasn't allergic to anything other than cats, and yes, he would be carrying his weapon with him. Rose-Marie relayed the information back to Amy, who promised to have them on the next flight out, possibly that very night.

"What's with the sizing?" Don asked.

"I have no idea. Seems those were questions Dad asked her to ask you if you came with me on the flight," she said. "She has her reasons and I'm sure Dad does."

"Okay."

They took off for Los Angeles, California, just before midnight, as Amy had promised. Mac worked it out with Don's supervisor so that Don was still technically working; Rose-Marie was in protective custody and Don was escorting her to see her father at Good Samaritan Hospital in Los Angeles, known for both its cardiology and surgery departments.

Two hours before they departed, Amy gave them both instructions and an itinerary, which included reservations at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Don had planned to pack for the trip but Amy assured him that he would have everything he needed on the flight; apparently her boss had instructed her to ensure that Don had a complete wardrobe, right down to socks and undergarments (she had called Rose-Marie earlier and asked her what her boyfriend preferred in the way of underwear and Rose-Marie, blushing like crazy, had told her). All Don needed was his weapon and identification. The same went for Rose-Marie. Everything else was taken care of. All they had to do was relax and enjoy the flight.

"What is your father up to?" Don asked as they boarded the sleek jet.

"Damned if I know. If he told Amy, she ain't saying," Rose-Marie said. "We'll find out when we get there."

Don nodded; she was right. They would find out what the senior Desmond wanted when they got there and not before.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

They landed in Los Angeles in the early hours of the morning. Los Angeles was about three hours ahead of New York and it had been roughly a six hour trip. A limo took them to the Beverly Hills Hotel, where they were apparently expected because checking in at nearly three in the morning did not prove to be a problem. Don wasn't sure what was in the luggage that Amy had packed for them and he didn't recognize the brand of bags but he was sure that if it was from a Desmond, it was very good. Between the two of them, they had two garment bags and two rolling packing bags. Rose-Marie also carried a laptop brief bag, a small tote containing her diabetes supplies, and her purse.

They probably didn't look like wealthy travelers, as Rose-Marie still wore jeans, her favourite suede sheepskin jacket, runners, and a sweatshirt with the NYPD logo on it, something she had bought when the 'blue flu' had hit, as a way of showing support for the NYPD. Now it was simply one of her favourite sweatshirts, along with a shirt that said NYC Homicide Squad, in referral to Don's job as a homicide detective.

Don didn't look much better, wearing one of his more comfortable suits sans the tie, and an equally well-worn coat.

A porter kindly took their luggage and escorted them up to their room, a Beverly Hills Suite, complete with king-size bed and Jacuzzi. Both barely had the energy to strip before collapsing on the bed, where they promptly slept for several hours. The agreement was that they would head for the hospital between nine and ten a.m. Don made sure his gun was within reach and both he and Rose-Marie made sure their cells were plugged in for charging but on in case someone called them.

Despite their exhaustion, that didn't stop the nightmares from hitting Rose-Marie and she woke up at least once, crying out and struggling in her sleep. Don did the only thing he could think of; he made love to her, something Rose-Marie had no objections to. Fortunately the hotel had provided condoms in the bedside table, which was good because he didn't have any with him. The end result was that Rose-Marie slept a bit more peacefully, her mind at least temporarily taken off of her troubles and into nicer areas of thought.

When they woke up again, it was in time for breakfast and a shower. The clothes Amy had packed turned out to be from Hugo Boss, all of it, right down to the undergarments and shoes, except for Rose-Marie, as Hugo Boss didn't carry a line of women's undergarments. Instead, Amy had hit Rose-Marie's favourite lingerie store, Victoria's Secret.

"What did she do; raid the store?" Don quipped as he did up one of the shirts.

Rose-Marie smiled. "I guess so," she said as she tugged on her blazer jacket, one that matched her pants. "Saves time on packing, I would imagine. Besides, Hugo Boss isn't bad."

"For a working stiff like me, it's very good; trust me, especially with a wardrobe like this. How did she know I liked boxers?"

She blushed. "After I last spoke to her, she called me again and asked for a bit more detail about you, such as your general coloring and certain preferences. I gave her enough detail for her to be able to find what she was looking for."

"And you?" he asked, referring to the sexy-cute bra and panties he'd watched her put on.

"She has my sizing and preferences on file already, having done it once for me; long story but it involves missing air luggage," she admitted. "Plus, she's a traveling woman; she knows the tricks to basic make-up and hair-care while traveling."

He smiled. "So she's not only your dad's executive assistant, she's also a personal shopper," he said.

"Something like that. I swear, sometimes it feels like she's been more of a wife and a friend to Dad than Marion ever was. I've often wondered," she admitted, doing up the clasp on a familiar heart pendant; it was the one Don had given her for Valentine's and it was a favourite piece of hers. He smiled when he saw it. Then she came over to him and did up his tie. "Thank you," she said, "for everything."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. "Whatever comes, Rosie, you won't go through it alone, I promise." She nodded, laying her head against his shoulder and holding on to him tightly, trying not to let the tears surface. Right now he was the only real stable thing in her life and she had a bad feeling that God wasn't done with her yet, that there was still more to come.

They arrived at the hospital and were quickly directed to the Cardiology unit, where a security officer sat outside Jonathan Desmond's private room. Don stayed outside the room to talk to the guard while Rose-Marie went in.

Against the pale hospital linen, Jonathan looked even paler and older than when she had last seen him. An oxygen nose-clip went under his nose, an i.v. was in one hand, and wires were hooked up to a heart monitor, one that beeped steadily.

"Dad," she said, almost afraid to speak. He turned to look at her from looking out the window and smiled when he saw her.

"Hey sweetheart," he said, holding out his hand to her, one she grasped eagerly before leaning down to hug him carefully. "How are you doing?"

"I should be asking you that," she said, trying not to cry at the sight of him looking so tired and weak.

"And you already know the answer to that," he said. "Did you bring your friend, Don?" he asked.

She nodded. "He's outside, talking to the guard."

"Bring him in," he said. She stuck her head outside the room and caught Don's attention. He followed her in and Jonathan studied him for a moment, before offering his hand to the younger man.

"Nice to meet you sir, although I do wish it was under better circumstances," Don said, accepting the handshake and not failing to notice the tremor in the older man's hand.

"Same here, son, same here. Has there been any word on the bastards who killed my wife and daughter?" Jonathan asked.

"All we know is that there are certain things missing from both of them and that they were murdered approximately two hours apart. Whoever did it made no attempt to hide the murders but every attempt to hide his or her identity," Don said. He had spoken to Mac and Stella just before boarding the jet the night before. "We're not even certain if it was the same person or two different people."

Jonathan nodded. "Tell your people to do their best; that's all I ask."

Don smiled gently. "That's all we know how to do," he said.

"Good enough." Jonathan sighed heavily. "You spoken to the docs yet?" he asked.

"Just over the phone," Rose-Marie said, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside the bed. "They said you suffered a massive myocardial infarction brought on by a combination of grief, stress, and hypertension."

"They tell you that surgery will likely kill me, if my heart doesn't get there first?" Jonathan asked. Rose-Marie nodded. "I don't have a lot of time, baby, and I can feel it."

Her tears surfaced again as she said, "I don't want to lose you, Dad."

"I know, sweetie, I know, and I don't want to leave either but I may not have a choice in the matter," he said. "That's why I've begun making the necessary arrangements to take care of various things. I know you don't want the company."

"I'm sorry," she said.

He smiled. "It's okay; the company will be in good hands and my lawyer assures me that the transition will go smoothly. But it's you I'm worried about."

"I'll be okay, Dad, really. I'll manage," she said.

"I know you will, but I don't want you to have to go through it alone," he said. "That's why I wanted you to bring Don with you, because I have a very important request to make of you."

Don and Rose-Marie looked at each other before looking back at Jonathan. "We're listening," she said.

"Don, you strike me as being a good man," Jonathan said.

"I try to be," he said.

"Do you love my daughter?"

Don blinked; that was the last thing he expected, but he nodded. "I do, sir, and before you ask, I know she loves me."

"Rose?" Rose-Marie nodded in confirmation. "In that case, Rose, I need to speak to Don privately, if I may."

"Of course, Dad," Rose-Marie said, standing up. "I think I saw a coffee machine down the hall."

Don smiled at his girlfriend. "Stuff is usually horrible but you might get lucky," he said.

"Translation, Pepsi for you," she said.

"You know me too well."

"How can you drink that stuff? It doesn't taste right!" she quipped, slipping into their familiar bantering.

"Like your diet Coke is any better?" he shot back, grinning.

"That's because I'm diabetic," she shot back as she left the room. "But at least Coke has flavour compared to your Pepsi!"

Don chuckled and shook his head in amusement before turning back to Jonathan, who had watched the interchange with amusement and shrewd eyes. "Understand something, Don; I'm a business man. Always have been, always will be. But first and foremost, I'm a father and I want nothing more than for my daughter to be safe and happy."

"I understand," Don said.

"Good. Then you'll understand if I tell you that I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to secure her safety and her happiness, and that means I'm prepared to offer you whatever you want on one condition."

"I'm listening, but you should know it's a federal offense to bribe a cop," Don said.

"I'm not bribing a cop, I'm bribing a man who clearly cares about my daughter," Jonathan shot back. Don nodded in understanding. "Marry my daughter before I die. I don't care how you do it or why you do it, but marry her and secure her safety."

Don felt his jaw drop. "Let me see if I heard that right; you want me to marry Rose at any cost and you want it done ASAP?" he asked.

"You heard right, boy," Jonathan said.

"Does Rose know about this?"

"Not yet, no," Jonathan said. He looked at Don square on, with perfectly serious eyes. "I am very serious. I don't care if you two divorce within six months to a year after I die, but I want Rose safe and happy before I die. California law says you two can be married by the end of the week."

Don thought about that for a moment, then said, "Okay, I'll do as you ask, but I have a condition."

"Name it."

"I won't marry Rose unless she agrees to it. I want her to be happy just as much as you do but I won't force her into something she's not comfortable with," Don said. "You can make all the threats and promises you want, but that's my condition. Either Rose agrees or it's a no deal."

"Fair enough."

"As for her safety, have your head of security work with me and I will do everything in my power as a cop to keep her safe from the bastards that took your wife and daughter," Don promised. "I will also see to it that he or she feels the full brunt of the law when we finally nail them."

"I'll see to it," Jonathan said.

"Good."

Don was waiting for Rose-Marie outside the room, where he had stepped to allow Jonathan to call his lawyer with the latest instructions, as well as his head of security. He smiled when he saw her.

"Hey," he said, accepting the cold bottle of Pepsi Max and noting her bottle of Diet Pepsi Wild Cherry. "No Diet Coke available?"

"Not here, no. This is the next best thing," she said, twisting the top off of her bottle. He nodded. "What did Dad want?"

"He wants us to get married," he said bluntly.

Rose-Marie stared at him, her jaw falling open. "Is he serious?" she hissed.

"Very," he said, twisting the cap off of his bottle and taking a swig. "He wants you to be happy and he wants you to be safe and he figures the best way to assure himself of that is to see you married to me. He also wants it done within a week."

"And you said?"

"That I wouldn't do it unless you agreed to it," he said. "He did offer me whatever I wanted but I told him no deal unless you said yes." Rose-Marie blinked, not sure what to say. "Here's the thing; money or not, I'd do it anyway." She blinked again. He smiled. "Been thinking about settling down for a while, so what the heck? If it doesn't work out, well, we'll just join the ranks of the other divorcees," he quipped.

She smiled at that but came closer, allowing Don to put an arm around her waist. "Are you sure?" she asked hesitantly.

He smiled gently. "Could be fun," he said. "I've done a lot of crazy stuff as a cop, a man, and a kid, but I've never done a shot-gun wedding before. But I promise you this; no matter what happens, I won't leave you and I won't hurt you. You won't face things alone."

"I believe you," she said, laying her head on his shoulder before sighing heavily. "Okay, let's do it," she said.

"You sure?" She nodded. "Danny's gonna laugh his ass off at us," he said, grinning.

"We'll save him a bottle of wine," she said.

"We'd better," he said as they headed back into the room to let Jonathan know.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"So what do we have?" Mac asked as his people gathered around the table. With him were Sheldon Hawkes, Stella, Sid, Lindsay Monroe, Danny, Adam Ross, Detectives Jessica Angell, who was investigating Marion's murder, and Patrick Colton, who was investigating Judith-Ann's murder. Spread out across the table were crime scene photos, evidence bags, and reports. "Are the murders connected?"

"We got blood from the burnt clothes that were found in the barrel behind the hotel where Marion Desmond was found," Danny said, indicating several evidence bags containing the remains of burnt black pants, a black hooded sweatshirt, and black leather gloves. "DNA says it belongs to the first victim, Judith-Ann Desmond. We also found a fingernail that's a match to Marion Desmond, and Trace says the clothes were doused in lighter fluid."

"So whoever killed Judith-Ann also killed Marion," Stella said. "And wore the clothes from the first murder to the second murder. That's pretty cold."

"It also suggests premeditation," Lindsay said. "The scarf we found had Marion's DNA on it but witnesses say the scarf actually belonged to the first victim."

"So the killer took the scarf from Judith-Ann's place and used it on Marion; definitely premeditation. It also says the murders are connected," Mac said. "Sid, anything from either victim?"

"The first victim was definitely hit in the back of the head, hard enough to kill her, so the beating to the face was what one might call over-kill," Sid said. "Someone wanted this girl dead."

"And Marion?" Stella asked. "I noticed a bruise on her face, around her mouth."

"Pre-mortem," Sid confirmed. "Straight-arm punch to the mouth hard enough to knock a tooth down her throat. Found some skin under her nails and sent it to DNA."

"No hits in CODIS," Adam reported. "All I can tell you for sure is that the killer was definitely male."

"A straight-arm punch to the mouth?" Angell repeated. "That would knock anyone senseless, long enough for the killer to wrap the scarf around the victim's neck. Question is; when did the punch come?"

"We did find prints on the inside door handle that belonged to Marion," Stella confirmed. "It looks like she opened the door to someone and that may have been when the hit came."

"So she was definitely expecting someone," Angell said. "Canvas turned up plenty of witnesses who remember seeing Marion in the area at the time of her murder but not afterwards. It was pretty dark; something the killer was probably counting on."

"Any other prints?" Mac asked.

Lindsay spoke up. "We got a gazillion prints from the room, some that belonged to the victim, but nothing that were related to the murder."

"Same with the guest house," Sheldon said. "Any prints found either belonged to the victim, the house staff, or the family, even on the murder weapon. The only other thing we found were size ten shoe prints belonging to a Timberland PRO 40044 TiTAN Safety Toe Oxford, which is a men's black low Oxford shoe, according to the website and the store that sells them." He pointed to a photograph with a corner ruler and a shoe print visible in the soft beige carpet and then to a picture of a black shoe. "Those are not cheap shoes and even on sale, they go for about a hundred bucks."

Stella nodded. "We found the same one at the hotel," she confirmed. "And we called the store and they've sold at least two dozen pairs or more in the past month alone."

"Any names stick out?" Mac asked.

"Not at the moment, no," Colton said. "In fact, we don't even know who to start looking at."

"Both women were known for being in the tabloids all the time but recently Marion was going through a 'cheap' phase because of an incident between her, Donovan Bullman, and Judith-Ann," Angell said. "There's a lot of conflicting rumours about what actually happened."

"Even the victim's sister, Rose-Marie, wasn't completely sure what happened between her and Donovan," Colton said. "All she knows for sure is that Donovan got very drunk on Valentine's Day, there was a big fight between Judith-Ann and Donovan, she kicked Donovan off the property, and Donovan headed for Marion's arms and bed."

"That's pretty much what Flack said Rose-Marie told him," Mac said, nodding.

"How's Rose-Marie's father doing, anyone know?" Lindsay asked.

"Spoke to Flack last night, said they were going to go visit him in the morning," Danny said.

"Out of curiosity, could this be related to the stalking that was happening to Rose-Marie and Flack?" Stella asked.

"You too, huh?" Mac asked, having been asking himself the same question.

"Stalking?" Colton asked.

Mac, Stella, and Danny brought the rest of the team up-to-date on the stalking and the census around the table was the same; the stalking and the murders might be connected or they might not be. If they were, then someone was playing a very, very sick game, one in which there were no winners.

Then Danny's cell went off and he glanced at it. "Speak of the devil," he said. He hit the speaker button and said, "How's LA, Flack?"

"_Warm, sunny, and a very nice change of pace from New York,_" came Don's voice. "_We just finished visiting Rose's dad, and he is not doing good_."

"Sorry to hear that," Danny said.

"_Yeah well, I hope you're sitting down,_" Don said.

Danny looked around the room and said, "The majority of us are; why?"

"_Because when I come back, I'm going to be a married man._"

"Run that one by us again," Stella said, her voice laced with confusion, the same confusion that was on everyone else's face.

"_Seems Jonathan is desperate to protect his youngest daughter to the point that he begged me to marry Rose, both to secure her happiness and her safety. Talked it over with Rose and she agreed to it. Figure it'll take about a week to get the necessary arrangements in place and we'll have to do it in LA because the docs won't let Jonathan fly home to New York any time soon, not with the condition his heart is in,_" Don explained. "_We can also better avoid the press here than in New York, especially with the murder investigation going on._"

"What, no party, no nothing?" Sheldon asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"_Do that when we get back, promise,_" Don said, a grin in his voice.

"You'd better," Mac said, also grinning. "Your parents aren't going to be too happy with you if you don't."

"_Believe me, I know. I am_ so _looking forward to explaining this one to them_," Don said wryly.

"Well, you can't say you're not moving up in this world," Danny quipped, grinning.

"_Stuff it, Messer_," Don shot back. "_Hey listen, Rose wants to know if you guys have found Marion's ring or her sister's bracelet_."

"No sign of either of them," Mac said.

"Been checking the pawn shops but nothing," Angell admitted.

"The bracelet would be hard to pawn," Lindsay said, "but the ring wouldn't be, especially if the person who took it sold it on E-Bay."

"_True,_" Don said. "_Could it be that the killer took those items as trophy items? Both pieces were well-associated with their owners._"

"It's possible," Stella said.

"_Oh, Rose also says her sister kept a written journal and she knows the one you guys probably found was fairly new_," Don said.

"We did find it, yes," Mac said, glancing at an evidence-bag-covered journal. "Any idea where she may have kept the older ones?"

Rose-Marie's voice came on the line. "_Once the books were finished, she'd burn 'em but she also kept a hard-copy on a flash-drive in the safe in Dad's office in the house. It's got a black and white Marilyn Monroe cell phone charm on it. There's an older one and that one's got an Elvis charm on it. There are at least several others, all with charms like Miss Piggy, Tinkerbell, and Playboy on them._"

"Okay," Mac said.

"_Talk to Paul about the safe; I'll call him in a bit and ask him to give you guys access to the safe and the flash-drives. I know the flash-drives are protected but... damn it, that reminds me.... About two days before she died, Jay told me that if anything happened to her, to check the flash-drives because they had a lot of secrets on them, secrets some people might not want to ever see the light of day_," Rose-Marie said. "_She said the passwords were the charms and that the key to the box where the flash-drives were kept was on her keychain_."

"The passwords for the flash-drives are the charms?" Colton repeated.

"_Exactly. I thought she was being a bit paranoid and didn't think anything of it at the time because I had no intention of going through those drives but now I'm wondering...._"

"That could explain the odd key we found on your sister's keychain; it looks like a key to a security box," Lindsay said.

"_And if it's just holding flash-drives, it's not going to be a very big box but it may look like a dozen other fire boxes that I know are in the safe. Again, talk to Paul; he'll help you,_" Rose-Marie said.

"What about your step-mother?" Angell asked. "Do you know if she kept a similar journal?"

"_I don't know_," Rose-Marie said heavily. "_She may have; it wouldn't surprise me. Check the safe and check her keys. I'm giving you full access to the house and whatever you need if it'll help find the bastard who hurt my family, and that comes from both me and Dad._"

"We'll do our best," Mac promised.

"_That's all I ask and all I expect_," Rose-Marie said. "_Here's Don_."

"_Hey,_" Don said. "_Listen, we've got to go, but I'll keep in touch and let you know if either of us think of anything that might help. Rose will call Paul and her dad's already given instructions to the family lawyer that he is to cooperate fully with the investigation. Same goes for Amy, Jonathan's executive assistant. Mac, I`ll text you the numbers in a bit._"

"Good, we may need them," Mac said.

Don signed off and the group looked at one another. Then Danny started laughing. "I am _so_ looking forward to seeing explain this one to his parents. What the hell did he get himself into this time?"

"He does care about her," Lindsay pointed out.

"Sure, but I'd never thought I'd see the day when Flack would get married, never mind this fast," Danny said. "Wonder who's holding the shotgun?" He laughed even harder.

"Well, if this gets out, the tabloids are going to have a field day, especially in light of the murders," Angell said, a quiet look coming across her face. She had briefly entertained the notion of trying to get back together with Don, but when she'd seen Don and Rose-Marie together, she knew she didn't have a snowball's hope in hell; Don was very much in love with the younger Desmond daughter and it had shown on his face and in his actions. And now he was getting married.... _Let it go, _she told herself firmly. _It was good while it lasted but it's over and it has been for some time. Let him go._

"Out of curiosity, has anyone spoken to Donovan Bullman?" Sheldon asked. "It seems to me that in light of the public humiliation Judith-Ann tossed at him, he'd be someone with a grievance against both victims."

"Haven't been able to find him," Angell admitted. "And he was last seen with Marion."

"Same here," Colton said. "He has access to the Desmond estate and kept a guest room there."

"We also have his prints on file," Mac said. "Flack got them after the bloody basket of roses incident."

"Aside from having access to the Desmond estate and being seen with Marion, does Donovan have anything to gain by their deaths?" Stella asked.

"If we can find him, we'll ask him," Angell said.

"Another question," Adam said. "Who benefits from their life insurance policies? I would imagine the pair of them have some pretty hefty life insurance policies."

"Time to call the family lawyer and find out," Mac said as his cell buzzed and a series of numbers came up. "Flack just sent me the numbers we need and says Paul, the butler, is expecting us."

"Wait a minute," Sheldon said. He grabbed a report and pulled it towards him. "Something I just remembered; about a week before the murders, someone withdrew about five hundred in cash from one of the Desmond credit cards. Cash would make it a heck of a lot easier to purchase things and leave less of a trail."

"Any idea who and where?" Danny asked, curious; he had finally stopped laughing.

"Report says local bank ATM at two a.m. in the morning," Sheldon said. "Doesn't say who the card belongs to, other than the Desmond estate."

"Cameras?" Stella asked.

"Maybe, if they hold footage that far back," Colton said.

"Okay, we need to find out," Mac said. "Sheldon, you and Danny work with the bank, see if you can find out who pulled the cash. Stella, you and I will head to the Desmond estate for those flash-drives; I've got a feeling Judith-Ann may have more than a few secrets and we need to know if those secrets were worth killing over. Lindsay, work with Adam and scare the Desmond family lawyer into finding out who benefits from those insurance policies. And you two," he said, indicating Angell and Colton, "find Donovan Bullman; we've got a few questions for him."

_Two nights later:_

911 operator: 911 emergency.

Caller: Help... help me...

Operator: Ma'am, are you okay? What's wrong?

Caller: Bastardo... he hit me.... beat me.... threatened me.... told me my bella was not safe.... that she was a puttana.... like the rest of her family.... and when he caught up to her....

Operator: Okay....

Caller: he would make her suffer.... that this was only the beginning.... that he would take everything.... everything she held dear....

Operator: Okay, ma'am, do you need an ambulance?

Caller: Please.... she has a agente di polizia, a good man.... warn her.... my bella is not safe....

Operator: I will ma'am, I promise. Okay, I've got a fix on your location. Do you know the name of the police officer?

Caller: She called him Don.... Don Flack....

Operator: We'll let him know, I promise. Ambulance is on the way, ma'am. I'll stay on the line with you until they arrive, okay? You hang in there.

Caller: He beat me.... tried to scare an old lady.... but he will regret it.... I fought.... I hurt that bastardo.... made him pay for picking on an old lady like me.....

Operator: That's good, ma'am, that's real good.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** sorry if this chapter seems a bit choppy but I've been writing it on the go and in between a hectic personal life. Thanks again for the reviews and your patience.

**Chapter 13**

For the next two days after agreeing to get married, Don and Rose-Marie's life was an absolute whirlwind of meetings and shopping. Due to the speed of the wedding, they both agreed a simple ceremony would be best but because the wedding was a first for both, they also wanted it to be special. Since neither of them wanted to take the time to go through the church, they decided a judge would be easier and faster.

Fortunately, Jonathan knew someone who knew someone who knew a judge who would be willing to perform the ceremony and could be counted on to be discreet. As security was of importance, the courthouse where the judge worked was warned about the upcoming event and they were promised security and discretion from the press.

Then it was time to shop for wedding clothes. Jonathan, in his generosity, gave Don unlimited use of a credit card and the name of a good men's clothing store, one that specialized in tuxedos. He wound up choosing a really nice Ralph Lauren wedding tuxedo suit with a white shirt, black vest, and black bow tie. He would later put a white rose boutonniere on the jacket lapel.

As for Rose-Marie, her choice was easy; she already knew what she wanted and that was a Kristie Kelly bridal gown, specifically the Collection Two Ariel sheath dress in ivory chiffon with a rouched neckline, soft cap sleeves, and rouched skirt back. A matching crystal necklace, earrings, and tiara, all from Kristie Kelly Ariel's Collection Three accessories, were added to the gown. A waltz-length veil would be pinned to the top of her hair, which she planned to put into an elegant French twist. Her flowers, like Don's boutonniere, would be white but interspersed with red roses and dark green greenery and in a simple bouquet.

Because of the nature of Don's work and the fact that Rose-Marie liked to work with her hands, they settled on simple, wide gold wedding bands and a matching engagement ring that had the stone embedded in the band.

Jonathan would attend the ceremony in a wheelchair due to his health, and so would Amy, who was flying in from New York to give them a hand and to serve as a witness. The Desmond family lawyer, a man by the name of Andrew Seeley, would also attend the wedding and serve as a second witness.

There would be a small reception afterwards, nothing fancy, but there would be a large party in New York when they got back for the Flack family and their friends as a way of making up for the quickie wedding.

Then, on the second night, Rose-Marie got a call that threatened to derail her sanity and peace of mind.

"Hello?" she asked sleepily, answering her cell.

"Bella? Il mio dio! You are okay! Ringrazi il signore!"

"Mama Gema?" Rose-Marie asked, sitting up, puzzled by the call and the odd-sounding tone in her friend's voice. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, Bella, Bella, promettami you' il ll sta attento! La persona che ha preso la vostra sorella e la vostra matrigna, gli ha promesso più dolore, più dispiacere! Prego, Bella, è molto, molto attento!" _Promise me you'll be careful! The person who took your sister and your step-mother, he promised you more pain, more sorrow! Please, Bella, be very, very careful!_

Realizing that Mama Gema had slipped into her native language, Rose-Marie responded in kind. "Che persona, Mama? Mama, siete giusto? Dove siete? La persona che ha ucciso Jay è andato dopo voi? What' s che accende? I don' la t capisce!" _What person, Mama? Mama, are you okay? Where are you? Did the person who killed Jay go after you? What's going on? I don't understand!_

"Oh, bambino dolce, già avete perso così tanto. Stia attento, stia molto attento. È andato dopo che me ma io ha combattuto, io lo ha combattuto, ma lo ha voluto vivo dirgli he' s che viene per voi, Bella. Prego, Bella, sta molto attento. Non desidero perderlo_…." Oh, sweet child, you have already lost so much. Be careful, be very careful. He went after me but I fought, I fought him, but he wanted me alive to tell you he's coming for you, Bella. Please, Bella, be very careful. I do not wish to lose you...._

The line went dead, and Rose-Marie, feeling the panic rising, turned to look at Don, who was already awake.

"I'm calling Mac," Don said, grabbing his cell. "Did she say where she was?" Rose-Marie shook her head.

"He went after her, Don, the bastard went after Mama Gema!" she said, trying to stem the hysteria she could feel bubbling up in her chest. "It wasn't enough that he took my sister and my step-mother, now he goes after Mama!"

"I'll find out what's going on, I promise," he said, listening to Mac's cell ring. Then Mac picked up. "Mac, listen, Rose-Marie just got a call from Mama Gema. Something's wrong; it sounds like the guy who murdered Jay and Marion attacked Mama Gema." He rattled off an address that belonged to the Little Italy Bakery even as he gestured for Rose-Marie to hand him her cell. Then he gave Mac the number that had come up on Rose-Marie's cell. "Can you find Mama Gema and find out what's going on? Okay, call me when you know anything." He hung up. "Mac is going to try and find Mama Gema and trace the number I just gave him. Sweetheart, what did Mama Gema say? Tell me everything." So she repeated what Mama Gema had told her. When she finished, Don was swearing. "How many people know about your relationship with Mama Gema?" he asked.

"Not that many," she admitted. "Obviously the stalker knew about the Little Italy Bakery because of the roses he sent to me twice, but me and Mama? Not too many people. Jay knew how I felt about her and so did the people I worked with who also worked with Mama, but I mostly kept in the back and our relationship wasn't something that ever made the papers. I don't even know if Dad knows about how close we are."

"Okay, so whoever knows about you and Mama Gema has to be someone close to the family," Don said. His cell rang and he checked the number before answering it. "Flack here," he said. He listened for a moment then swore again. "Damnit, is she okay? She had the bracelet with her? How? Hang on, I'm going to switch to speaker." He hit a button and said, "Okay, could you repeat that?"

Mac's voice came over the phone and Rose-Marie leaned forward to listen closely. "_Mama Gema is at Bellevue Hospital Center and she's being treated for assault. She was able to call for help and she apparently put one hell of a fight, but according to the officer that took her statement, her attacker wore all black and a black mask. He also left a MedicAlert bracelet that's been identified as belonging to Judith-Ann. It's got blood on it and we're running it through DNA now_. _Mama Gema is apparently frantic with worry about you, Rose-Marie, but I assured her you were safe and out of the city for now. I also told her you were getting married and she immediately started going on about making big plans for a very big party for you. Seems she's quite fond of you_." There was a tone of amusement in his voice.

"She's been like a grandmother to me," Rose-Marie admitted. "Is there anything we can do for her?"

"_She's in good hands now but because of the connection to the murders we're placing her under protective custody_," Mac said.

"What if I could do you one better?" Rose-Marie offered, "And it would be at no cost to the city? Plus, it would make me feel safer."

"_I'm listening_," Mac said.

"Dad's security people. His head boss is still in New York; I can call him and send an Italian-speaking, former SWAT member over to the hospital ASAP and then have Mama relocated to some place safer," she offered. "The less public knowledge there is about Mama Gema's location, the safer she is."

"_That would work_," Mac said. "_How good is the security company?_"

"Dad only hires the best and so does the head boss, a guy by the name of Brandon Markham. If I recall correctly, he's a former SWAT member himself and a veteran of the NYPD," Rose-Marie said. "I'll have him work with you guys to keep Mama safe."

"_Okay, call me when it's set up,_" Mac said. "_Now, get some rest; Mama Gema is safe, we've got plenty of evidence to work with thanks to the fact that she caught this guy off-guard by fighting. One way or another, he made a mistake by going after Mama Gema._"

"Thanks Mac, we appreciate this," Don said.

Mac signed off and Don put his cell back. He could see Rose-Marie was struggling to hold on to her emotions and he put her arms around her, holding her tightly. "Call Brandon Markham and get him working with Mac, okay?"

She nodded and scrolled through her contact list on her cell before selecting an entry. Brandon answered right away.

"I'm sorry to bother you at this time of night but something's come up," she explained. "The bastard who took Jay and Marion went after a friend of mine and put her in hospital. I spoke to an officer there, Detective Mac Taylor, and he's willing to let one of your guys watch her and put her in safe custody if you'll coordinate with him over it." She gave Brandon Mac's cell number and continued. "Mac knows exactly where Mama Gema is right now, but I know she's at Bellevue Hospital. I'm thinking someone who speaks Italian well because when Mama gets upset, she starts speaking Italian, so if you have someone who knows the language and can charm the socks off her...." She laughed. "That sounds good. Just keep her safe, that's all I ask. Let me know when it's done. Thanks again, Brandon." She hung up and turned to Don. "Brandon says he has someone in mind and the guy is a former Marine officer with an Italian background so Brandon figures he'll have no trouble with Mama."

Don smiled. "Good. Then she's in good hands and she's safe."

Rose-Marie nodded. Then, try as she might, the tears came and they came hard and fast. All Don could do was lay her down and hold her while she cried. He knew she was crying out of grief, out of fear, confusion, stress, and heartache. The stalker was trying to destroy not just her life but her sanity and her peace of mind. She was holding on as best as she could but there was only so much one person could take.

It was a long while before the flow of tears finally eased off, leaving her feeling drained and wrung out. He left her long enough to get a cold washcloth so she could clean her face and a box of tissues for her nose, both of which she accepted gratefully.

"You're going to be okay," he soothed. "You're not going through this alone, I promise."

"I know, and that's probably the only thing that's keeping me sane right now," she admitted.

"Try getting some sleep, sweetie; Mama Gema is safe and we've got a lot to do tomorrow," he coaxed. "There's nothing else we can really do right now."

She nodded and snuggled against him, trying to get some rest; he was right. They still had a few things to do tomorrow and she had done all she could for now. By letting the stalker get to her like this, he was winning.

_Two days later:_

The wedding went off without a hitch, with Judge Clayborn walking Rose-Marie and Don through their marriage vows. Jonathan, looking tired but good in a suit and tie, sat in a wheelchair in a part of the courthouse that was like a sunroom, where the ceremony took place. Amy and Andrew were also in attendance, with Amy serving as Rose-Marie's maid-of-honour and Andrew serving as Don's best man, aside from serving as witnesses. For security reasons, a security guard had been invited to attend, partially to keep an eye out for the press and partially to ensure the safety of the group. Jonathan had also hired a wedding photographer and the photographer, Brian Newborn, was busy during the ceremony and afterwards, when he did a number of posing photographs with the newly-wedded couple.

Don hadn't seen Rose-Marie's dress and once again he nearly swallowed his tongue when he did see her in her wedding finery. She blushed as she approached him and the judge and eagerly reached for his hand. He barely heard Judge Clayborn as they were walked through their vows and when it was time for him to kiss his bride, he did so eagerly, holding her tightly.

"I can't promise you the world," he whispered in her ear, "but I will promise to keep you safe and I swear I will never, ever deliberately hurt you. No matter what happens, remember that I love you."

"I love you too, and I know you won't hurt me. I promise I won't deliberately hurt you either; you mean too much to me," she whispered back, feeling a sense of peace for the first time in nearly a week as she snuggled close to him.

Brandon had called her yesterday and assured her that Mama Gema was safe and in good hands with an Italian-speaking guard who, by all reports, had managed to charm Mama Gema completely. She was now resting and in a secure location, already making plans for a party for Rose-Marie and Don when they returned to New York.

As per suggestion and agreement, a proper and formal photograph of Rose-Marie and Don would be released to the _Post_ upon their return, along with a carefully worded statement to a reporter Andrew knew and trusted. Then they would wait and see what happened next.

Jonathan, knowing his health was failing, had agreed to retire from his position as head of his shipping company. The task of naming his successor was already in the works, as well as a number of other tasks. He was planning to relocate to a family vacation house in Miami, where he could rest, relax, and enjoy retirement. As for the main house, it was agreed that it would be sold and a portion of the sale used to purchase a home for Don and Rose-Marie.

It would be a busy month for Rose-Marie and Don and Jonathan as they attempted to organize and sort out their lives and deal with the effects of letting go of loved ones while starting a new life in the process. It would not be easy, but, as Don had promised his new wife, she would not be doing it alone.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **sorry for the extreme delay in updates but my health and my personal life have taken a major beating over the last few weeks. I will try to do a longer chapter next time (emphasis on the word 'try') so I beg of you to be patient with me.

**Chapter 14**

There had been dinner, there had been dancing, there had been passion, and there had been peace. It hadn't been much, given the circumstances, but for a moment, it had been enough.

Don stared at the gold ring gleaming on his left hand, catching the moonlight, as his new wife slept beside him. Her robe and thong panties, a sheer lace white confection thing that had not lasted long on her, lay on the floor.

Things had come a long way since he met Rose-Marie at Sullivan's, all those nights ago. Back then he'd been a man, a cop, in search of a little fun and some perhaps company. He was still a man and still a cop, but now he was married to one of the wealthiest women in New York. She was also a woman with a stalker and a killer after her and a dying father. All that aside, she was a woman he loved.

He didn't have much to offer her, except the promise of safety and his love, but it felt like a classic tale from _Aladdin; _the princess had seen something in the poor boy, something that kept her coming back to him when she had dozens of princes at her beck and call. _Or was it Beauty and the Beast?_ he wondered to himself, a grin coming across his face, _where the beauty had seen the heart under the beast? But who was the beauty and who was the beast? Maybe we both are._

He knew he might have to become the Beast in order to protect his Beauty but it was something he'd do willingly. Whoever this person was, he needed to be stopped and stopped fast; too many people were being hurt or killed and sooner or later he would try to go after Rose-Marie directly. Don didn't even want to think about that.

Glancing at the time, he picked up his cell and dialed a number. The line rang and a moment later, someone answered.

"_Taylor._"

"It's Don. How are things going?"

"_And if I recall correctly, it's also your wedding night_," came Mac's gently scolding voice.

"She's asleep, which is what she needs," Don replied easily. "We'll be returning to New York in two days, after Rose sees her father off to Miami, where they have a summer house. He's retiring from the company and the doctors here have agreed to let him fly to Miami to recover and retire."

"_Good_," Mac said.

"We're also going to put the Desmond house on the market because it's too big for us and in light of the murders, understandably she really doesn't want to stay there. She was even thinking about razing the guesthouse to the ground and having a garden planted there in memory of her sister."

"_I'll warn the others_," Mac said. "_We got the flashdrives Rose-Marie mentioned and we're going over them now but there are a lot of entries on them and they date back several years_."

"Anyone of any interest?"

"_Yeah, Donovan Bullman; Judith-Ann wrote that on Valentine's Day, Donovan got very drunk and started verbally abusing Rose-Marie, calling her a cheap whore who didn't know a real man when she saw one. Apparently he promised to make sure Rose-Marie learned what a real man was and that you were just a thug with a badge and a gun. When Judith-Ann tried to stop the abuse, he turned on her, accusing her of using him and thinking he was just as stupid as Rose-Marie thought he was. Called her frigid and a few other unpleasant words_," Mac said. "_The end result was that Paul and someone named Ramon forcibly hauled Donovan out of the house and into the nearest cab. Judith-Ann later discovered that instead of going to a hotel, Donovan headed for the hotel where Marion was attending a Valentine's Day function of her own and pulled the 'poor me' trick with her, eventually winding up in her bed. When Judith-Ann spoke to Marion about that, apparently the woman shrugged and said Donovan was a good screw and had always wanted a chance to try him out for size, to quote_."

"Definitely a man with a problem," Don said.

"_The other thing Judith-Ann noted in her entries was that Donovan had quite the crush on Rose-Marie, constantly wondering why she wouldn't give him a chance_," Mac said. "_And as if that wasn't enough to get our attention, the fact that he hasn't been seen since Marion and Judith-Ann's murders has raised more than a few eyebrows. He's wanted for questioning on the basis of fact that he knows his way around the Desmond premises and is known to Marion_."

"Would he have known about Mama Gema?"

"_More than likely; maybe not the exact extent of their relationship but definitely enough to know that Rose-Marie knew and respected Mama Gema_."

"Makes him a prime suspect in my book," Don said.

"_And ours, especially in light of the fact that about a week before the murders, Donovan was seen withdrawing five hundred in cash from an ATM with a credit card belonging to the Desmond estate. Shortly afterwards a man matching his description was seen purchasing a very expensive pair of steel-toe shoes identical to the ones we found at the crime scenes and he paid cash_," Mac said. "_As for the bracelet that was found at the bakery, it definitely belongs to Judith-Ann and definitely came from that crime scene. The person who attacked Mama Gema and the person who killed Judith-Ann are one and the same_."

"Any prints?"

"_Other than Mama Gema's, no_."

"Whoever this guy is, he's a long way from stupid," Don said.

"_Which means we just have to be that much smarter_," Mac pointed out. "_I don't believe in coincidences and my gut says Donovan Bullman has something to do with what's been going on_."

"Paul say anything about him?"

"_Other than him no longer being permitted on the property, which was effective Valentine's Day, he didn't really care for him_," Mac said. "_Called him arrogant and rude, for starters. He also remembers that Donovan did not take kindly to being thrown off the property and both Paul and Ramon were seriously considering calling the cops on him_."

"Definitely a suspect to look at."

"_As soon as we can find him. We've been monitoring the credit cards for any unusual activity but so far nothing_."

"Donovan does not strike me as a man who could live without credit cards for too long; something tells me he'll pop up soon."

"_And when he does, we'll be waiting._"

Don and Rose-Marie flew home two days later, just as Don said. They were greeted with a large party at the Desmond estate and the expected media. Fortunately they weren't much of a problem, as security had been increased and they were kept out.

There was the usual ribbing and teasing and demands about why Don and Rose-Marie didn't tell anyone sooner about the wedding and so forth. Samantha Flack put in an appearance and Rose-Marie tried to make her feel welcome but she had a feeling the older girl would need a bit of time to warm up to her, given the circumstances.

Over the last two days Rose-Marie and Don had done a lot of talking and quite a bit of planning. Because Rose-Marie and Jonathan would be selling the Desmond house, and because of the guesthouse, Rose-Marie had elected to move in with Don until the house was sold and they had purchased a house of their own. Rather than fire anyone, she would simply offer them the opportunity to migrate to Miami as part of the new Desmond household staff. Those who chose not to go would be let go with a decent-sized severance package and a reference.

According to Judith-Ann's life insurance policy, Rose-Marie was the primary benefactor, which surprised her to no end. It was a large policy that left her close to a quarter million richer than before. Unfortunately, still grieving over her sister, Rose-Marie shoved the money into an account and ignored it. As for Marion, her life insurance policy left her husband just as rich as he was the primary benefactor. His response was to turn the money over to his lawyer with instructions to disperse it amongst Marion's favourite charities, his reason being that he would not touch what he considered blood money; money that came at the expense of his wife's life.

There had been a few sightings of Donovan Bullman but so far the police had not been able to locate him. Because he was wanted for questioning rather than suspicion of murder, a warrant for his place had not been granted.

Then that changed.

Rose-Marie sat in Mac Taylor's office next to her husband, once again facing Mac Taylor and this time, another detective was with him, Detective Mike Saunders.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, Mrs. Flack, given the circumstances, but I need to ask you to identify a recent victim," Saunders said.

"Why are you asking me?" she asked.

"Because the victim was identified as having worked for you," Saunders said. He handed her a photograph and Rose-Marie studied it; it was an autopsy photo of a young woman with black hair and olive skin. She would have been pretty, had she not had a nasty-looking mark around her neck.

She recognized the woman as one of the maids she had employed at the estate and said as much. "I think her name was Maria," she said.

Saunders nodded. "Maria Agins," he said. "We found a paystub in her purse from the Desmond household account."

"Do you know if she was one of the ones going to Miami with your dad?" Don asked her quietly.

"I don't know but Paul would. I can find out," she said, feeling tired and drained.

"I'm sorry?" Saunders asked, confused.

Don quickly brought the detective up-to-date with the current Desmond household situation while Rose-Marie dug out her cell and called the butler. After speaking quietly to him for a moment, she hung up. "Yeah, Maria was one of the ones who had elected to go to Miami. About half the household staff is also going and Maria was part of the group coordinating the move with Paul. What happened to her?"

"Her roommate found her strangled in her bed," Saunders said. "The autopsy report confirmed she had sex with someone before she died." He handed her another picture and this one was a sketch of a white male with dark hair. "She was last seen with this guy. Do you recognize him?"

Rose-Marie chuckled dryly as she studied the sketch. "Oh I do, believe me, I do. You guys are already looking for him," she said, letting Don see the sketch.

"Donovan Bullman, wanted for questioning in regards to the murders of Judith-Ann and Marion Desmond," Don said, scowling at the sketch.

"And now for the murder of Maria Agins," Mac said, scowling. He brought Saunders up-to-date on those cases and Saunders was quick to catch on to the fact that the cases might be connected.

"We did find a condom on the scene," Saunders said. "I'll make sure the lab compares it to the DNA and prints from your cases."

"Why would anyone want to kill Maria?" Rose-Marie asked. "She was just a maid."

"Who had access to information inside the Desmond household," Don pointed out.

"So she was seduced, used, and killed," Rose-Marie said, catching on. "Wonderful. Is anyone in the damn household safe anymore?"


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Okay, so my house is sold and I've just purchased a new house. Great, wonderful, congrats, right? Not. I've got one month to get ready for Possession Date, which is at the end of the month.... and I'm in my 3rd trimester? I've worked out the remainder of this story and I promise it will be finished soon.... I hope. I've also worked out the stories for several others I've left hanging (sorry about that) and hope to begin working on them soon, provided I get the time and the space to do so.

**Chapter 15**

As with all things, there comes a time when one must say good-bye. It's never easy, especially when it's someone you care about, but it's part of life and part of letting go. That was true in the case of Judith-Ann and Marion Desmond, and Maria Agins.

The funerals for Judith-Ann and Marion were private events, aside from the number of mourners, and Jonathan attended via satellite. Rose-Marie did the eulogy for Judith-Ann's funeral and a friend who was close to Marion did hers.

Mac spoke privately to Don afterwards and revealed that a black rose had been discovered on both Judith-Ann and Marion's coffin. Donovan Bullman had also been spotted but gotten away before the sighting could be confirmed. Neither of these things Don revealed to his wife, whom, as far as he was concerned, had enough stress on her shoulders as it was. He knew she was trying hard to deal with it but he worried for her and, earlier, had made her promise that if things ever got to the point she started drinking that she would go see a trauma counsellor before letting the stalker or the alcohol destroy her. She had agreed, abet reluctantly, but she had agreed.

As Rose-Marie felt responsible for Maria's death, she offered to pay for the funeral expenses, something her family agreed to. Her funeral was simple, quiet, but filled with Maria's family. Still feeling guilty, Rose-Marie did the only thing she could think of and that was apologize to Maria's father.

"Whoever this.... bastard.... is, he's going after everyone and anyone associated with me or the Desmond estate and I don't know why," she admitted to him.

"Do you know why he went after my Maria?" Mr. Agins asked.

"Information, possibly," Don said, standing next to his wife. "Maria knew a lot about the Desmond household and about the recent changes."

Mr. Agins nodded. "She wanted to go to Miami and we encouraged it. Spread your wings, we said. See what else is out there. Only now, she never will."

"I'm sorry," Rose-Marie said.

"No, no it is not your fault," Mr. Agins said. "You did not ask for Maria to die, any more than you asked for your sister or your step-mother to die, or for your father to suffer such a bad heart-attack. Do not ask for forgiveness, for here, there is none to give because you have done nothing wrong."

"Then why does it still feel like I have?" Rose-Marie asked Don later that night as she snuggled against him in his bed, trying to get some badly-needed sleep.

"Because you care, sweetheart, because you care," he replied, holding her close.

"Mac, we just got a hit," Danny said, racing towards his supervisor and holding a file in one hand. "One of the credit cards associated with Donovan Bullman just got used to purchase a return plane ticket to Miami, which left two hours ago."

"And Jonathan Desmond is in Miami," Mac said, catching on.

"Exactly. If Donovan went after Maria Agins for info, then he would have learned that Jonathan Desmond is in Miami, hence the ticket," Danny said. "You still got that contact in Miami?"

"I do and I'll call him," Mac said, taking out his cell and thumbing through a list of contacts. In due course, Lieutenant Horatio Caine of the Miami-Dade Crime Lab was apprised of the situation and forwarded a copy of the cases. He promised to put the word out to the necessary people and let them know if they caught Donovan Bullman. He also asked Mac to extend his congratulations to Don Flack, whom he had met the last time he'd been in New York, which Mac promised to do.

Then it was a waiting game.

_Miami, Florida_

"If Donovan Bullman is behind all this, then he is one sick bastard," Sergeant Frank Tripp said, looking at the file and the photos spread across the table. "New York thinks he may be trying to go after the father?"

"He did purchase a return ticket to and from Miami," Horatio said. "According to Mac, Jonathan Desmond is the only member of the family in Miami and he's currently residing at a summer home, recovering from a massive heart attack. I was told that the heart attack was serious enough that one more attack will likely kill him and that due to his health, surgery will likely do the same."

"Easy target," Frank said. "He's dying and he knows it."

"Which means Donovan Bullman may also know it," Horatio said. "I understand the surviving daughter, Rose-Marie, has warned her father and they are willing to work with us."

Then Ryan Wolfe came into the room, holding a file. "We need to scramble; the credit card just took another hit, this time for a purchase for a weapon, specifically a Winchester Model 70 Extreme Weather SS, according to the guy I talked to from the store where the rifle was bought."

"That's quite the heavy-duty rifle," Calleigh Duquesne said, who was also studying the case. "Especially for someone who may not know how to use it. Mind you, he could have been going for looks more than anything else. Long-range, scope-capable, usually in black, and durable in all kinds of weather."

"Scramble SWAT and get Patrol over to the Desmond summer estate on the double," Horatio said. "Caution them to move fast but quietly. We don't want Donovan Bullman to know we're on to him until it's too late."

Frank pulled out his cell and started making calls.

"Should we alert the estate security of a possible hit?" Ryan asked.

Horatio nodded. "Call their head of security and advise them of the situation. We want to flush Donovan out and that means the senior Desmond may have to make himself a target." He pushed a piece of paper that had contacts and numbers on it towards Ryan.

"Understood," Ryan said, accepting the paper.

A moment later, Frank hung up and said, "SWAT guys will meet us in a staging area. Patrol is on their way and promised to watch the premises like a hawk. If they see Donovan before we do, they'll pounce."

"Good," Horatio said. "Let's go get this guy before he takes another life."

_Later:_

Donovan Bullman studied the elder Desmond in his scope. It was hot in Miami, hotter than he'd imagined, and he was sweating heavily even in the shade. Still, he had work to do; Jonathan Desmond was going to die today, one way or another, and Rose-Marie was going to suffer even more. Then he planned to head back to New York and put that crazy Italian bitch called Mama Gema out of her misery. Stupid bitch had put up more of a fight than he'd expected and he had a couple of nasty bruises and scratches to show for it. God, he hated women.

Perfect. Jonathan's head was right in his sights. He readied the rifle and prepared to fire. "Bye-bye Daddy," he snickered.

"_Not today, asshole,_" came a quiet voice behind him.

He froze, even as he heard the sound of half a dozen weapons being cocked. He carefully turned his head....

And found himself staring in the faces of at least half a dozen well-armed, black-covered SWAT guys, all with their weapons aimed at him. Somehow they had managed to sneak up on him without him ever hearing them.

_Damn it all to hell!_

"Get your finger off the trigger, lower the weapon, and put your hands where we can see 'em," the officer said coldly.

Donovan wisely did as he was told and quickly found himself being shoved to the ground and cuffed with riot cuffs before being forcibly yanked up from the ground and escorted to a waiting van. He hoped he remembered the number of that lawyer the Desmond's used 'cause he had a feeling he was going to need it.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N**: thanks again for the reviews but be warned; starting near the middle of the month, I may not be able to do up-dates as fast as I'd like as I take possession of my new house on the end of the month and that means packing, packing, packing!!!! As it is, I will try and have this story resolved before then. I will also try and begin working on finishing several other stories that I have not completed (one may need quite a bit of re-tooling to make it work in a more satisfactory manner for me) but I will try, promise.

**Chapter 16**

_Miami, Florida_

It was late at night and Donovan Bullman was not having a good time. Normally he loved a good party but this was one party he'd never wanted an invite to and didn't even want to be there in the first place. He was in an interrogation room with two officers from the Miami-Dade police. One was a crime scene investigator (Lieutenant Caine, the prick had called himself) and Sergeant Tripp of Homicide. Donovan thought he detected a Texan accent in his voice and guessed Tripp was another hick cop (_aren't they all?_ He thought sourly.)

Two hours into his arrest, he thought for sure a lawyer from the Desmond estate would have shown up by now but both Lieutenant Caine and Sergeant Tripp had smirks on their faces he wasn't so sure he liked.

"Still waiting for that lawyer?" Caine asked quietly, hands folded in front of him.

Donovan said nothing.

"Guess what, wiseass? We just got a call from Jonathan Desmond," Tripp said. "He said you tried to use his lawyer to get you out of this mess."

"So?" Donovan snapped. "Judith-Ann Desmond was my girlfriend!"

"And you just tried to kill her father," Caine said coldly. "As it is, the lawyer has been instructed to decline his services to you, citing conflict of interest."

"I'm not saying anything until I get a lawyer," Donovan said bluntly, even as his blood went cold and his heart began to hammer. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He thought. He was in serious shit now. He should have known better to use a credit card but he was strapped for cash and didn't want to waste an opportunity to remove the senior Desmond from the picture, furthering his campaign to make Rose-Marie Desmond suffer.

"Fine, we'll get you a public defender," Tripp said.

The public defender had shown up an hour later, been presented with the evidence from the attempted shooting, the reports from SWAT and the patrol officers, and the credit card report. Then he was warned that there was more to come.

"What more could there possibly be?" the lawyer asked tiredly.

Caine and Tripp smiled coldly. "My counter-parts in New York are having a field day with his apartment," Caine said. "Upon Donovan's arrest, they were granted a warrant for his place and, from what I understand, they are finding enough evidence to have the judge throw you in jail for the rest of your life."

"Evidence to what?" the lawyer, a young man named David Fordham.

"Murder, for starters," Tripp said.

"I didn't kill anyone!" Donovan snapped, his face flushing and his heart beginning to pound in earnest.

"Really?" Caine asked coldly. "Did you know your DNA matches the condom found in the bedroom of Maria Agins? It also matches the DNA found under the nails of a woman named Mama Gema. From what I understand, she put up quite the fight, something I don't think you were expecting."

Donovan scowled at that. No, he hadn't been expecting that crazy Italian bitch to put up the size of the fight that she had and she had scratched him good. He self-consciously tugged on his sleeves, trying to cover up the scratch marks on his wrists, something that was not missed by the Miami-Dade officers.

"And that's just for starters. For now," Caine said, "you are being charged with illegal possession of a weapon and attempted murder. I understand there are a few officers from New York coming down and should be here by the morning. I think they will want to have a conversation with you and from what I'm hearing, it'll be quite the conversation."

"Is there any way we can plea bargain our way out of this?" Fordham asked tiredly.

"That's not up to us," Tripp said. "Enjoy your stay."

_New York, New York_

"We may need to head to Miami," Don said, looking at his wife, having just gotten off the phone with Mac. They were snuggled on his couch in his apartment, catching the late news when the call from Mac had come in.

"Is my father okay?" Rose-Marie asked worriedly.

"He's fine but Miami-Dade just caught Donovan Bullman as he was attempting to take out your father with a long-range rifle," Don said.

"He _what?_" Rose-Marie yelped, her face going pale.

"Yup, but SWAT got to him before he had a chance to shoot. He's now occupying a cell in Miami-Dade PD holding. Mac, Jess, Pat, and Paul are all heading out on the next available flight to have a conversation with Donovan about the assaults, stalking, and murders. We've been invited to go but on the understanding that we stay away from the PD until they have it out with Donovan," Don said.

"How much evidence do they have against him?" Rose-Marie asked.

"They got a warrant for his place and, from what I gathered, they are having a field day. Mac wasn't able to give me specifics but he did say that so far they have enough evidence to throw Donovan in jail and toss the key away," Don said, a nasty grin crossing his face.

"But are they sure it was Donovan?" Rose-Marie asked.

Don smiled. "DNA doesn't lie," he said. "Also, you're going to love this; Donovan tried to use your family lawyer to get him out of the current weapon charges. Jonathan got word of it and told the lawyer to deny his services on the basis of conflict of interest. A public defender is with him now."

"That low-life sonova---" and Rose-Marie proceeded to go off on a rant that had Don grinning in amusement. "First he goes after me, then he takes my sister and my step-mother and then hurts Mama Gema and then tries to go after Dad and now has the _nerve_ to try and use a Desmond lawyer to get out of his mess? What the hell planet is he living on? Obviously not this one! I hope they---"

"Do you want to go to Miami?" Don asked once Rose-Marie calmed down enough for him to get a word in edgewise.

"Yes, please," Rose-Marie said.

"I am so glad my boss gave me two weeks off," Don quipped.

"And you're gonna want to get some sunblock," Rose-Marie shot back sweetly. "And I'm guessing it's not just the weather that'll get hot."

"No, I'm thinking poor old Donovan is going to get a bit hot under the collar, especially once our guys get through with him," Don said.

"Of course, if we have the time, I could make things hot for you," she said suggestively.

He grinned. "I love it when you talk dirty," he said.

"You haven't seen me in a swimsuit yet, have you?" she asked, grinning, sliding into his lap and straddling his waist.

"Are we talking a bikini here?" he asked hopefully.

"It can be arranged very, very easily," she said. "As much as I want to see Donovan crucified, I also want to make sure he's the right one and that we're not condemning an innocent man."

"I can understand that, but you know Mac and the others will do their best, just like they always have," Don said.

"I know," she said. "For now, however, can we kind of, sort of forget about Donovan? At least until we fly out to Miami?"

"We can do that," he said, stroking her back and watching her arch in pleasure. And for a while, he helped her do exactly that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

One by one the detectives laid out their evidence in front of Donovan Bullman and his lawyer. One by one they nailed his coffin shut.

A warrant for his apartment had turned up the proverbial goldmine. Diligent lab testing had done the rest.

A pair of blood-covered steel-toe shoes had been recovered and they matched the shoe prints at the Desmond guesthouse where Judith-Ann Desmond was murdered and the hotel where Marion Desmond was murdered.

Blood on the shoes were a match to Judith-Ann.

Witnesses put him at and around the guesthouse on several occasions.

A sapphire and diamond ring found in his apartment was confirmed as having once belonged to Marion Desmond. Skin found in the ring claws were a match to Donovan, as was the print on the ring.

Witness sightings put him at the hotel where Marion had been murdered.

DNA had confirmed a match to the condom found in Maria Agins room, as well as the hairs on her bed and the epidurals on the scarf that had been used to strangle Maria. That same DNA matched the skin pulled from Mama Gema's nails.

A bite-mark on his arm matched Mama Gema's teeth, faded and healed though it was.

Witness sightings had him being the last person to see Maria Agins alive.

Journal entries from Judith-Ann's journals indicated Donovan knew about Mama Gema and computer data indicated he had, at one point, looked up the location of Little Italy Bakery.

Receipts for the shoes, black roses, and other assorted 'gifts' had been found on his desk, along with the receipt for the airline ticket to Miami.

Surveillance photos of Rose-Marie Desmond-Flack and Don Flack had been found and several photos of Rose-Marie had her face or head blackened out.

Spray paint matching the paint on Don's car and Rose-Marie's car had been found in his closet.

Cell-phone records matched the text messages and pictures sent to Rose-Marie's cell.

His journal had been found and with it, all the details they needed to not only nail his coffin shut, but cover it with bricks and mortar.

"I only have one question left," Mac said.

"What?" Donovan asked sourly.

"Are you done being stupid?"

Donovan's face flushed angrily.

"Detectives..." David Fordham cautioned tiredly. "I'd like a chance to confer with my client please."

The detectives nodded and filed out of the room. Once they were gone, Donovan pounced on David.

"What are my chances?" he demanded.

"Right now, not good. Miami has you by your neck over the weapon and attempted murder charges and the New York D.A. will probably want to haul you back to New York to face the murder and assault charges," David said. "And they have quite the case against you. My advice is to plead it out while you can. I don't know if you'll be able to get away with manslaughter but right now, if you try and take your chances in court, they will nail you to the floor. They will paint a picture of a scorned lover and jealous would-be boyfriend who deliberately set out to hurt someone in the worst possible way, all because the woman he wanted had the nerve to tell him where to go and how to get there. They will paint you as an ego-maniac with a murderous streak and the jury will convict you without a second thought."

"So I'm screwed."

"Without a doubt."

"What can I do?"

"Give a full confession, plead it out, and do your time," David said. "Face it; they've got you by the balls."

Donovan scowled. After a moment he nodded. "Thought if they never suspected me they couldn't touch my apartment."

"That's true, but the minute you got arrested was the minute the gloves came off," David said. "You ready to talk to them?"

Donovan nodded and David stood up. He tapped on the door and stuck his head out. "My client is ready to talk." The detectives, Mac Taylor, Jessica Angell, Patrick Colton, and Mike Saunders, filed back in. "He'll give you a full confession."

"Good; let's hear it," Angell said, taking out a notepad and pen.

And so Donovan talked. He admitted to killing Judith-Ann Desmond and Marion Desmond as part of his over-all plan to make Rose-Marie suffer. He also admitted to the assault on Mama Gema and Maria Agin's murder. Mama Gema was meant to scare Rose-Marie even further and Maria was simply a means to an end, a source of information, and when he had what he needed, he got rid of her to prevent her from talking further.

"But what did Judith-Ann and Marion do to make them your first targets?" Saunders asked.

Donovan scowled. "Judith-Ann dumped me, publicly humiliated me, that bitch, and Marion did the same; treated me no better than last week's flavour."

"Would that have anything to do with your drunken rant on Valentine's Day maybe?" Angell shot back sweetly. "Judith-Ann tossed you out on your ear and you went running straight to Marion. Kind of tacky."

"It was payback," Donovan shot back.

"And it back-fired when Marion dumped you as well as Judith-Ann," Mac shot back. "Hell of an ego bruise."

And it went from there. Donovan ranted and raved about how Rose-Marie had never given him a chance and had gone panting after Don Flack, or, as he called him, "that rent-a-cop in a suit", like a bitch in heat. He'd initially wanted to scare her enough that she would come running to him, but when she'd gone to Don Flack instead, that had changed. He claimed the Desmond women were all the same; selfish, conniving, arrogant bitches that treated people like dirt. As for Jonathan Desmond, well, he was dying anyway, and taking him out now would have been merciful. The heart attack had been unintentional but it had furthered his campaign to make Rose-Marie suffer. He hadn't counted on Rose-Marie marrying Don Flack and had been working on a plan to take Don Flack out and make it look like it was Rose-Marie who was behind the murder. As for killing Rose-Marie, that would not have served his purpose.

"You can't make someone suffer if they're dead," he pointed out sourly.

In due course he wrote out his confession and was booked. As he was being escorted out of the building to be taken to holding pending his trial and extradition, he spotted someone; it was Rose-Marie Desmond-Flack, standing next to her husband, Don Flack. Don wore his usual suit and tie but Rose-Marie wore a pretty short-sleeve babydoll tee in primrose heather from Victoria's Secret, white low-rise jeans, and Colin Stuart peep-toe sling-back sandals in sweet strawberry. Both were talking to the detectives and had been obvious of him until Rose-Marie spotted him out of the corner of her eye.

She ambled over to him and stared at him square in the face, ignoring her husband's cautioning words. Despite her fancy make-up and clothes, he could see the dark circles under her eyes and her pale skin, indications of stress. He smirked.

"Not such a pretty face now, are you?" he couldn't resist snarking.

That was a big mistake.

He never saw it coming. The next thing he knew, the world had exploded and he was flat on his back with a now-aching jaw and a blossoming headache. Rose-Marie stood over him, one fist still drawn back and her lip in a curl.

"Neither are you," she shot back sweetly.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** regretfully this is the last chapter in this story. I've done what I wanted to do and now I need to focus on finishing up a few other stories that were in progress. Thank you for your patience and your reviews and, as always, I look forward to continuing to entertain you as a writer.

**Chapter 18**

_One week later:_

Rose-Marie crouched down in front of her sister's headstone. It was a simple headstone, engraved with her full name, date of birth, date of death, and the words, "Daughter, sister, friend." Next to Judith-Ann's stone was Marion's stone, with the same information, except the word "sister" had been removed and the word "wife" added. Between the two stones hovered a large marble angel, wings spread and carrying a basket of roses. A similar angel hovered between Judith-Ann's marker and an older marker that bore the name "Sandra-May Leesburg Desmond" and showed a date of death some years prior; Rose-Marie's mother. In time there would be a third angel and another headstone, but not now.

"It's over, Jay," Rose-Marie said, laying down a bouquet of fresh roses and adjusting them carefully. "The guy who murdered you, Donovan Bullman, he was charged with attempted murder against Dad and a few other things. As soon as possible, he'll be coming back to New York to face murder and assault charges." She pulled a few weeds away from around the headstone. "Donovan confessed to everything, especially in light of all the evidence against him. Seems he got cocky, got stupid, and didn't get rid of everything. He still had the damn shoes he wore when he killed you, go figure. I've been told that by the time the D.A. finishes with him here, he'll be lucky if he ever breaths a breath of air as a free man again." She sat back on her heels, thinking. "As for me and Don, we'll be okay. We've got a good relationship and I know he loves me and I love him. He's even been talking about maybe starting a family. He said you would've wanted me to be happy and that meant moving on and letting go. He's right. I know we didn't always see eye to eye on things but I know you would've wanted me to be happy. As for letting go, that's what I'm trying to do. Dad and I are selling the house and Don and I are looking at purchasing a small, simple house for ourselves. Dad's in Miami, along with Paul and I think Paul may be retiring soon. Dad's heart is still a bit iffy but as long as he takes care of himself, he'll be okay. Mind you, I think all the beach bunnies in Miami might be a bit of a problem." She cracked a grin before sobering.

"It's over, Jay. It's finally, blessedly, over. I can stop looking over my shoulder, I can stop worrying, and maybe, just maybe, I can sleep better at night now." She dipped her head. "Dad and I had the guesthouse razed to the ground and a garden put in its place. As part of the conditions to the sale of the house, the new owners agree to leave the garden alone, aside from taking care of it, and leave the statue that we plan to put there alone. It was the only way I could think of to turn the horror of what had happened there into something positive. The statue is on order but I think you'd like it."

As she spoke, tears formed in her eyes.

"I know you're in a better place, Jay, but I'm going to miss you. Say hi to Mom for me and tell her to keep an eye on Dad for me. As for me and Don, we'll be okay. As I've said, we've got a good relationship and our love. Come what may, we'll be okay."

She straightened up, brushing away the tears on her face. "I've got to go, Jay, as Don and I are supposed to look at a house we're considering buying, so you take care and have fun up there. Don't worry about me and Don and Dad and tell Maria Agins the good news, if her family hasn't already done so."

A hand landed gently on her shoulder and she looked up; it was Don. She smiled at him and he smiled back. "Let's go," she said.

He nodded and slipped his arm around her waist. "You going to be okay?" he asked.

She nodded as they walked back to the car. "They say time heals everything."

"It doesn't, but things do get easier after a while," he said.

"Yeah?"

"Especially when you chose to look forward towards the future, and not back at the past," he said. He spared a glance at a headstone near an oak tree as they passed and felt a twinge; _Aiden June Burns_. Carved into the stone was the NYPD symbol and the words, "A daughter, a friend, a cop, and a fighter to the last."

Rose-Marie noticed his slight hesitation and asked, "A friend of yours?"

He nodded. "I'll tell you about her some time. I think you would have liked her."

She smiled. "Probably." She hesitated and asked a question that had been bothering her. "Now that Donovan is caught and the horror is over, where do we go from here?"

He smiled. "Only one way to go, sweetheart, and that's forward."

"Were you serious about having a family?"

"Sounds like fun to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's go forward."


End file.
